


I 




HOW JANICE DAY WON 


THE **D0 SOMETHING** BOOKS 

BY 

HELEN BEECHER LONG 


JANICE DAY 

THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY 
HOW JANICE DAY WON 
i2mo. Cloth. Illustrated 
Price per volume, $1.25 net 


SULLY AND KLEINTEICH 

NEW YORK 



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It's her, the parson says, that's re’lly at the back 
of this temp'rance movement."— (5ec page 204) 



THE THIRD "DO SOMETHIN G'* BOOK 


HOW 

JANICE DAY 

WON 


BY 

HELEN BEECHER LONG 

AUTHOR OF “JANICE DAY,” “THE TESTING 
OF JANICE DAY” 


Illustrated bj 

CORINNE TURNER / 



' ♦ 

NEW YORK 

SULLY & KLEINTEICH 





Copyright, 1916, by 
SULLY AND KLEINTEICH C 

All rights reserved 



AUG -2 1916 'i 


©CI.A437081 



c/ 

r 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PACK 

I. Trouble from Near and Far . i 

II. “Talky” Dexter, Indeed . . 17 

III. “The Seventh Abomination'' . 28 

IV. A Rift in the Honeymoon . . 35 

V. “The Bluebird — For Happi- 
ness" 43 

VI. The Tentacles of the Mon- 
ster 51 

VII. Swept On by the Current . 60 

VIII. Real Trouble 71 

IX. How Nelson Took It . . . 81 

X. How PoLKTowN Took It , . 91 

XI. “Men Must Work While Wo- 
men Must Weep" .... loi 

XII. An Unexpected Emergency . 112 

XIII. Into the Lion's Den . . . 119 

XIV. A Declaration of War . . 132 

XV. And Now It Is Distant Trou- 
ble 142 

XVI. One Matter Comes to a Head . 156 

XVII. The Opening of the Campaign 167 


vl Contents 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII. Hopewell Sells His Violin . 177 

XIX. The Gold Coin 188 

XX. Suspicions 196 

XXL What Was In the Paper . . 205 

XXII. Deep Waters 218 

XXIII. Josephus Comes Out for Pro- 
hibition 229 

XXIV. Another Gold Piece . . . 240 

XXV. In Doubt 254 

XXVI. The Tide Turns 264 

XXVII. The Tempest 271 

XXVIII. The Enemy Retreats . . . 280 

XXIX. The Truth at Last .... 284 

XXX. Marm Parraday Does Her 

Duty 298 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“It’s her, the parson says, that’s re’lly at 
the back of this Temp’rance movement.” 


(See page 204.) Frontispiece v 

FACING PAGE 

“Oh, Janice Day! see my new dress? Isn’t it 
pretty ?” 40 

The pallor of his face went to her heart . . 90 1/ 


“Oh my dear ! I — I wish I might help you” . 250 ^ 



HOW JANICE DAY WON 


CHAPTER I 

TROUBLE FROM NEAR AND FAR 

At the corner of High Street, where the lane 
led back to the stables of the Lake View Inn, 
Janice Day stopped suddenly, startled by an erup- 
tion of sound from around an elbow of the lane — 
a volley of voices, cat-calls, and ear-splitting 
whistles which shattered Polktown’s usual after- 
noon somnolence. 

One youthful imitator expelled a laugh like the 
bleating of a goat: 

“Na-ha-ha-ha ! Ho! Jim Nar-ha-nay! There's 
a brick in your hat !" 

Another shout of laugher and a second boy ex- 
claimed : 

‘Took out, old feller! You'll spill it!" 

All the voices seemed those of boys; but this 
was an hour when most of the town lads were 
supposed to be under the more or less eagle eye of 

1 


2 


How Janice Day Won 


Mr. Nelson Haley, the principal of the Polktown 
school. Janice attended the Middletown Seminary, 
and this chanced to be a holiday at that institution. 
She stood anxiously on the corner now to see if 
her cousin, Marty, was one of this crowd of noisy 
fellows. 

With stumbling feet, and with the half dozen 
laughing, mocking boys tailing him, a bewhiskered, 
rough-looking, shabby man came into sight. His 
appearance on the pleasant main thoroughfare of 
the little lakeside town quite spoiled the prospect. 

Before, it had been a lovely scene. Young 
Spring, garbed only in the tender greens of the 
quickened earth and the swelling buds of maple and 
lilac, had accompanied Janice Day down Hillside 
Avenue into High Street from the old Day house 
where she lived with her Uncle Jason, her Aunt 
’Mira, and Marty. All the neighbors had seen 
Janice and had smiled at her; and those whose eyes 
were anointed by Romance saw Spring dancing by 
the young girl’s side. 

Her eyes sparkled; there was a rose in either 
cheek; her trim figure in the brown frock, well- 
built walking shoes of tan, and pretty toque, was 
an effective bit of life in the picture, the background 
of which was the sloping street to the steamboat 
dock and the beautiful, blue, dancing waters of the 
lake beyond. 

An intoxicated man on the streets of Polktown 


Trouble from Near and Far 


3 


during the three years of Janice Day’s sojourn here 
was almost unknown. There had been no demand 
for the sale of liquor in the town until Lem Parra- 
day, proprietor of the Lake View Inn, applied to 
the Town Council for a bar license. 

The request had been granted without much op- 
position. Mr. Cross Moore, President of the Coun- 
cil, held a large mortgage on the Parraday premises, 
and it was whispered that this fact aided in putting 
the license through in so quiet a way. 

It was agreed that Polktown was growing. The 
‘‘boom” had started some months before. Already 
the sparkling waters of the lake were plied by a 
new Constance Colfax, and the C. V. Railroad was 
rapidly completing its branch which was to connect 
Polktown with the Eastern seaboard. 

Whereas in the past a half dozen traveling men 
might visit the town in a week and put up at the 
Inn, there had been through this Winter a con- 
siderable stream of visitors. And it was expected 
that the Inn, as well as every house that took 
boarders in the town, would be well patronized 
during the coming Summer. 

To Janice Day the Winter had been lovely. She 
had been very busy. Well had she fulfilled her 
own tenet of “Do Something.” In service she found 
continued joy. Janice loved Polktown, and almost 
everybody in Polktown loved her. 

At least, everybody knew her, and when these 


4 


How Janice Day Won 


young rascals trailing the drunken man spied the 
accusing countenance of Janice they fell back in 
confusion. She was thankful her cousin Marty 
was not one of them; yet several, she knew, be- 
longed to the boys’ club, the establishment of which 
had led to the opening of Polktown’s library and 
free reading-room. However, the boys pursued 
Jim Narnay no farther. They slunk back into 
the lane, and finally, with shrill whoops and laugh- 
ter, disappeared. The besotted man stood wavering 
on the curbstone, undecided, it seemed, upon his 
future course. 

Janice would have passed on. The appearance 
of the fellow merely shocked and disgusted her. 
Her experience of drunkenness and with drinking 
people had been very slight indeed. Gossip’s tongue 
was busy with the fact that several weak or reck- 
less men now hung about the Lake View Inn more 
than was good for them; and Janice saw herself 
that some boys had taken to loafing here. But 
nobody in whom she was vitally interested seemed 
in danger of acquiring the habit of using liquor 
just because Lem Parraday sold it. 

The ladies of the sewing society of the Union 
Church missed ‘‘Marm” Parraday’s brown face and 
vigorous tongue. It was said that she strongly 
disapproved of the change at the Inn, but Lem had 
overruled her for once. 

'‘And, poor woman!” thought Janice now, "if 


Trouble from Near and Far 5 

she has to see such sights as this about the Inn, 
I don’t wonder that she is ashamed.” 

The train of her thought was broken at the 
moment, and her footsteps stayed. Running across 
the street came a tiny girl, on whose bare head the 
Spring sunshine set a crown of gold. Such a wealth 
of tangled, golden hair Janice had never before 
seen, and the flowerlike face beneath it would have 
been very winsome indeed had it been clean. 

She was a neglected-looking little creature; her 
patched clothing needed repatching, her face and 

hands were begrimed, and 

“Goodness only knows when there was ever a 
comb in that hair!” sighed Janice. “I would dearly 
love to clean her up and put something decent to 
wear upon her, and — — 

She did not finish her wish because of an unex- 
pected happening. The little girl came so blithely 
across the street only to run directly into the waver- 
ing figure of the intoxicated Jim Narnay. She 
screamed as Narnay seized her by one thin arm. 

“What ye got there?” he demanded, hoarsely, 
trying to catch the other tiny, clenched fist. 

“Oh! don’t do it! don’t do it!” begged the child, 
trying her best to slip away from his rough grasp. 

“Ye got money, ye little sneak!” snarled the 
man, and he forced the girl’s hand open with a 
quick wrench and seized the dime she held. 

He flung her aside as though she had been a 


6 


How Janice Day Won 


wisp of straw, and she would have fallen had not 
Janice caught her. Indignantly the older girl faced 
the drunken ruffian. 

“You wicked man! How can you? Give her 
back that money at once! Why, you — you ought 
to be arrested!” 

“Aw, g’wan!” growled the fellow. “It’s my 
money.” 

He stumbled back into the lane »gain — without 
doubt making for the rear door of the Inn bar- 
room from which he had just come. The child was 
sobbing. 

“Wait!’’ exclaimed Janice, both eager and angry 
now. “Don’t cry. I’ll get your ten cents back. 
I’ll go right in and tell Mr. Parraday and he’ll 
make him give it up. At any rate ’he won’t give 
him a drink for it.” 

The child caught Janice’s skirt with one grimy 
hand. “Don’t — don’t do that. Miss,” she said, 
soberly. 

“Why not?” 

“ ’Twon’t do no good. Pop’s all right when he’s 
sober, and he’ll be sorry for this. I oughter kep’ 
my eyes open. Ma told me to. I could easy ha’ 
dodged him if I’d been thinkin’. But — ^but that’s 
all ma had in the house and she needed the meal.” 

“He — he is your father?” gasped Janice. 

“Oh, yes. I’m Sophie Narnay. That’s pop. And 
he’s all right when he’s sober,” repeated the child. 


Trouble from Near and Far 


7 


Janice Day’s indignation evaporated. Now she 
could feel only sympathy for the little creature that 
was forced to acknowledge such a man for a parent. 

‘'Ma’s goin’ to be near ’bout distracted,” Sophie 
pursued, shaking her tangled head. “That’s the 
only dime she had.” 

“Never mind,” gasped Janice, feeling the tears 
very near to the surface. “I’ll let you have the dime 
you need. Is-^is your papa always like that?” 

“Oh, no! Oh, no! He works in the woods 
sometimes. But since the tavern’s been open he’s 
been drinkin’ more. Ma says she hopes it’ll burn 
down,” added Sophie, with perfect seriousness. 

Suddenly Janice felt that she could echo that 
desire herself. Ethically two wrongs do not make 
a right; but it is human nature to see the direct 
way to the end and wish for it, not always regard- 
ing ethical considerations. Janice became at that 
moment converted to the cause of making Folk- 
town a dry spot again on the State map. 

“My dear!” she said, with her arm about the 
tangle-haired little Sophie, “I am sorry for — for 
your father. Maybe we can all help him to stop 
drinking. I — I hope he doesn’t abuse you.” 

“He’s awful good when he’s sober,” repeated the 
little thing, wistfully. “But he ain’t been sober 
much lately.” 

“How many are there of you, Sophie ?” 

“There’s ma and me and Johnny and Eddie and 


8 


How Janice Day Won 


the baby. We ain’t named the baby. Ma says she 
ain’t sure we’ll raise her and ’twould be no use 
namin’ her if she ain’t going to be raised, would it?” 

“No-o — perhaps not,” admitted Janice, rather 
startled by this philosophy. ‘Don’t you have the 
doctor for her?” 

“Once. But it costs money. And ma’s so busy 
she can’t drag clean up the hill to Doc Poole’s 
office very often. And then — well, there ain’t been 
much money since pop come out of the woods this 
Spring.” 

Her old-fashioned talk gave Janice a pretty clear 
insight into the condition of affairs at the Narnay 
house. She asked the child where she lived and 
learned the locality (down near the shore of Pine 
Cove) and how to get to it. She made a mental 
note of this for a future visit to the place. 

“Here’s another dime, Sophie,” she said, finding 
the cleanest spot on the little girl’s cheek to kiss. 
“Your father’s out of sight now, and you can run 
along to the store and get the meal.” 

“You’re a good ’im. Miss,” declared Sophie, nod- 
ding. “Come and see the baby. She’s awful pretty, 
but ma says she’s rickety. Good-bye.” 

The little girl was away like the wind, her broken 
shoes clattering over the flagstones. Janice looked 
after her and sighed. There seemed a sudden weight 
pressing upon her mind. The sunshine was dimmed ; 
the sweet odors of Spring lost their spice in her 


Trouble from Near and Far 9 

nostrils. Instead of strolling down to the dock 
as she had intended, she turned about and, with 
lagging step, took her homeward way. 

The sight of this child’s trouble, the thought of 
Narnay’s wqpkness and what it meant to his un- 
fortunate family, brought to mind with crushing 
force Janice’s own trouble. And this personal 
trouble was from afar. 

Amid the kaleidoscopic changes in Mexican af- 
fairs, Janice’s father had been laboring for three 
years and more to hold together the mining proper- 
ties conceded to him and his fellow-stockholders by 
the administration of Porfirio Diaz. In the battle- 
ridden State of Chihuahua Mr. Broxton Day was 
held a virtual prisoner, by first one warring faction 
and then another. 

At one time, being friendly with a certain chief 
of the belligerents, Mr. Day had taken out ore and 
had had the mine in good running condition. Some 
money had flowed into the coffers of the mining 
company. Janice benefited in a way during this 
season of plenty. 

Now, of late, the Yaquis had swept down from 
the mountains, Mr. Day’s laborers had run away, 
and his own life was placed in peril again. He 
wrote little about his troubles to his daughter, liv- 
ing so far away in the Vermont village, but his bare 
mention of conditions was sufficient to spur Janice’s 
imagination. She was anxious in the extreme. 


10 


How Janice Day Won 


Daddy would only come home on a visit as 
he had expected to this Spring!” was the longing 
thought now in her mind. “Oh, dear me! What 
matter if the season does change? It won't bring 
him back to me. Fd — Fd sell my darling car and 
take the money and run away to him if I dared!” 

This was a desperate thought indeed, for the 
Kremlin automobile her father had bought Janice 
the year before remained the apple of her eye. That 
very morning Marty had rolled it out of the garage 
he and his father had built for it, and started to 
overhaul it for his cousin. Marty had become 
something of a mechanic since the arrival of the 
Kremlin at the Day place. 

The roads were fast drying up, and Marty prom- 
ised that the car would soon be in order. But the 
thought now served to inspire no anticipation of 
pleasure in Janice’s troubled mind. 

She passed Major Price just at the foot of Hill- 
side Avenue. The major was Polktown’s moneyed 
man — really the magnate of the village. His was 
the largest house on the hill — a broad, high-pillared 
colonial mansion with a great, shaded, sloping 
lawn in front. An important looking house was the 
major’s and the major was important looking, too. 

But Janice noted more particularly than ever be- 
fore that there were many purple veins distinctly 
lined upon the major’s nose and cheeks and that his 
eyes were moist and wavering in their glance. He 


Trouble from Near and Far 


11 


used a cane with a flourish; but his legs had an 
unsteadiness that a cane could not correct. 

“Good day! Good day, Miss Janice! Happy to 
see you! Fine Spring weather — yes, yes,” he said, 
with great cordiality, removing his silk hat. 
“Charming weather, indeed. It has tempted me 
out for a walk — yes, yes !” and he rolled by, swing- 
ing his cane and bobbing his head. 

Janice knew that nowadays the major’s walks 
always led him to the Lake View Inn. Mrs. Price 
and Maggie did their best to hide the major’s mis- 
steps, but the children on the streets, seeing the 
local magnate making heavy work of his journey 
back up the hill, would giggle and follow on behind, 
an amused audience. This was another victim of 
the change in Polktown’s temperance situation. 

Poor Major Price 

“Hi, Janice! Did you notice the ‘still’ the 
major’s got on?” called the cheerful voice of Marty, 
her cousin. “He’s got more than he can carry com- 
fortably already; Walky Dexter will be taking him 
home again. He did the other night.” 

“No, Marty! did he?” cried the troubled girl. 

“Sure,” chuckled Marty. “Walky says he thinks 
some of giving up the express business and buyin’ 
himself a hack. Some of these old soaks around 
town will be glad to ride home under cover after a 
session at Lem Parraday’s place. Think of Walky 
as a ‘nighthawk’ !” and Marty, who was a short. 


12 


How Janice Day Won 


freckled-faced boy several years his cousin’s junior, 
went off into a spasm of laughter. 

'‘Don’t, Marty !” cried Janice, in horror. “Don’t 
talk so lightly about it! Why, it is dreadful!” 

“What’s dreadful? Walky getting a hack?” 

“Be serious,” commanded his cousin, who really 
had gained a great deal of influence over the 
thoughtless Marty during the time she had lived in 
Polktown. “Oh, Marty! I’ve just seen such a 
dreadful thing!” 

“Hullo! What’s that?” he asked, eyeing her 
curiously and ceasing his laughter. He knew now 
that she was in earnest. 

“That horrid old Jim Narnay — you know him?” 

“Sure,” agreed Marty, beginning to grin faintly 
again. 

“He was intoxicated — really staggering drunk. 
And he came out of the back door of the Inn, and 
some boys chased him out on to the street, hoot- 
ing after him. Perry Grimes and Sim Howell and 
some others. Old enough to know better ” 

“He, he !” chuckled Marty, exploding with laugh- 
ter again. “Old Narnay’s great fun. One of the 
fellows the other day told him there was a brick 
in his hat, and he took the old thing off to look 
into it to see if it was true. Then he stood there 
and lectured us about being truthful. He, he!” 

“Oh, Marty!” ejaculated Janice, in horror. “You 
never! You don’t! You can't be so mean!” 


Trouble from Near and Far 13 

“Hi tunket!” exploded the boy. “What^s the 
matter with you? What d’ye mean? ‘I never, I 
don’t, I can’t’! What sort of talk is that?” 

“There’s nothing funny about it,” his cousin said 
sternly. “I want to know if you would mock at 
that poor man on the street?” 

“At Narnay?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why not?” demanded Marty. “He’s only an 
old drunk. And he is great fun.” 

“He — ^he is disgusting I He is horrid !” cried the 
girl earnestly. “He is an awful, ruffianly creature, 
but he’s nothing to laugh at. Listen, Marty!” and 
vividly, with all the considerable descriptive powers 
that she possessed, the girl repeated what had oc- 
curred when little Sophie Namay had run into her 
drunken parent on the street. 

Marty was a boy, and not a thoughtful boy at 
all; but, as he listened, the grin disappeared from 
his face and he did not look like laughing. 

“Whew! The mean scamp!” was his comment. 
“Poor kid! Do you s’pose he hurts her?” 

“He hurts her — and her mother — and the two 
little boys — and that unnamed baby — whenever he 
takes money to spend for drink. It doesn’t par- 
ticularly matter whether he beats her. I don’t think 
he does that, or the child would not love him and 
make excuses for him. But tell me, Marty Day! 
Is there anything funny in a man like that?” 


14 


How Janice Day Won 


“Whew!” admitted the boy. “It does look dif- 
ferent when you think of it that way. But some 
of these fellers that crook their elbows certainly 
do funny stunts when they’ve had a few!” 

“Marty Day!” cried Janice, clasping her hands. 
“I didn’t notice it before. But you even talk dif- 
ferently from the way you used to. Since the bar 
at the Inn has been open I believe you boys have 
got hold of an entirely new brand of slang.” 

“Huh?” said Marty. 

“Why, it is awful! I had been thinking that 
Mr. Parraday’s license only made a difference to 
himself and poor Marm Parraday and his custom- 
ers. But that is not so. Everybody in Polktown 
is affected by the change. I am going to talk to 
Mr. Meddlar about it, or to Elder Concannon. 
Something ought to be done.” 

“Hi tunkeft! There ye go!” chuckled Marty. 
“More do something business. You’d better begin 
with Walky.” 

“Begin what with Walky?” 

“Your temperance campaign, if that’s what you 
mean,” said the boy, more soberly. 

“Not Walky Dexter!” exclaimed Janice, amazed. 
“You don’t mean the liquor selling has done him 
harm ?” 

“Well,” Marty said slowly, “Walky takes a drink 
now and then. Sometimes the drummers he hauls 
trunks and sample-cases for give him a drink. As 


Trouble from Near and Far 


15 


long as he couldn’t get it in town, Walky never 
bothered with the stuff much. But he was a little 
elevated Saturday night — that’s right.” 

*‘Oh!” gasped Janice, for the town expressman 
was one of her oldest friends in Polktown, and a 
man in whom she took a deep interest. 

A slow grin dawned again on Marty’s freckled 
countenance. “Ye ought to hear him when he’s 
had a drink or two. You called him Talkworthy’ 
Dexter; and he sure is some talky when he’s been 
imbibing.” 

“Oh, Marty, that’s dreadful !” and Janice sighed. 
‘‘It’s just wicked! Polktown’s been a sleepy place, 
but it’s never been wicked before.” 

Her cousin looked at her admiringly. “Hi jinks, 
Janice! I bet you got it in your mind to stir things 
up again. I can see it in your eyes. You give 
Polktown its first clean-up day, and you’ve shook 
up the dry bones in general all over the ^shop. 
There’s going to be something doing, I reckon, 
that’ll miake ’em all set up'and take notice.” 

“You talk as though I were one of these awful 
female reformers the funny papers tell about,” 
Janice said, with a little laugh. “You see nothing 
in my eyes, Marty, unless it’s tears for poor little 
Sophie Narnay.” 

The cousins arrived at the old Day house and 
entered the grass-grown yard. It was an old-fash- 
ioned, homely place, a rambling farmhouse up to 


16 


How Janice Day Won 


which the village had climbed. There was plenty 
of shade, lush grass beneath the trees, with cro- 
cuses and other Spring flowers peeping from the 
beds about the front porch, and sweet peas already 
breaking the soil at the side porch and pump-bench. 

A smiling, cushiony woman met Janice at the 
door, while Marty went whistling barnward, having 
the chores to do. Aunt ’Mira nowadays usually 
had a smile for everybody, but for Janice always. 

‘‘Your uncle’s home, Janice,” she said, “and he 
brought the mail.” 

“Oh!” cried the girl, with a quick intake of 
breath. “A letter from daddy?” 

“Wal — I dunno,” said the fleshy woman. “I 
reckon it must be. Yet it don’t look just like Brocky 
Day’s hand of write. See — here ’tis. It’s from 
Mexico, anyway.” 

The girl seized the letter with a gasp. “It — it’s 
the same stationery he uses,” she said, with a note 
of thankfulness. “I — I guess it’s all right. I’ll 
run right up and read it.” 

She flew upstairs to her little room — ^her room 
that looked out upon the beautiful lake. She could 
never bring herself to read over a letter from her 
father first in the presence of the rest of the family. 
She sat down without removing her hat and gloves, 
pulled a tiny hairpin from the wavy lock above her 
ear and slit the thin, rice-paper envelope. Two en- 
closures were shaken out into her lap. 


CHAPTER II 


‘‘talky’" dexter, indeed! 

The moments of suspense were hard to bear. 
There was always a fluttering at Janice’s heart when 
she received a letter from her father. She always 
dreamed of him as a mariner skirting the coasts 
of Uncertainty. There was no telling, as Aunt 
’Mira often said, what was going to happen to 
Broxton Day next. 

First of all, on this occasion, the young girl saw 
that the most important enclosure was the usual 
fat letter addressed to her in daddy’s hand. With 
it was a thin, oblong card, on which, in minute and 
very exact script, was written this flowery note : 

“With respect I, whom you know not, venture to 
address you humbly, and in view of the situation 
of your honorable father, the Senor B Day, beg to 
make known to you that the military authorities 
now in power in this district have refused him 
the privilege of sending or receiving mail. Yet, 
fear not, sweet Senorita; while the undersigned 
retains the boon of breath and the power of brain 
and arm, thy letters, if addressed in my care, shall 
17 


18 


How Janice Day Won 


reach none but thy father’s eye, and his to thee shall 
be safely consigned to the government mails be- 
yond the Rio Grande. 

‘‘Faithfully thine, 

“Juan Dicampa.*'^ 

Who the writer of this peculiar communication 
was, Janice had no means of knowing. In the 
letter from her father which she immediately 
opened, there was no mention of Juan Dicampa. 

Mr. Day did say, however, that he seemed to have 
incurred the particular enmity of the Zapatist chief 
then at the head of the district because he was not 
prepared to bribe him personally and engage his 
ragged and barefoot soldiery to work in the mine. 

He did not say that his own situation was at all 
changed. Rather, he joked about the half-breeds 
and the pure-blood Yaquis then in power about the 
mine. Either Mr. Broxton Day had become care- 
less because of continued peril, or he really con- 
sidered these Indians less to be feared than the 
brigands who had previously overrun this part of 
Chihuahua. 

However, it was good to hear from daddy and 
to know that — up to the time the letter was writ- 
ten, at least — he was all right. She went down to 
supper with some cheerfulness, and took the letter 
to read aloud, by snatches, during the meal. 

A letter from Mexico was always an event in 


^Talky” Dexter, Indeed! 


19 


the Day household. Marty was openly desirous 
of emulating “Uncle Brocky” and getting out of 
Polktown — no matter where or how. Aunt 'Mira 
was inclined to wonder how the ladies of Mexico 
dressed and deported themselves. Uncle Jason ob- 
served : 

“I've alius maintained that Broxton Day is a stub- 
born and foolish feller. Why! see the strain he's 
been under these years since he went down to that 
forsaken country. An' what for?" 

“To make a fortune. Dad," interposed Marty. 
“Hi tunket! Wisht I was in his shoes." 

“Money ain’t ev'rything," said Uncle Jason, suc- 
cinctly. 

“Well, it’s a hull lot," proclaimed the son. 

“I reckon that’s so, Jason," Aunt Almira agreed. 
“It's his money makin’ that leaves Janice so comfter- 
ble here. And her automobile " 

“Oh, shucks! Is money wuth life?" demanded 
Mr. Day. “What good will money be to him if 
he’s stood up against one o' them dough walls and 
shot at by a lot of slantindicular-eyed heathen?" 

“Hoo!" shouted Marty. “The Mexicans ain’t 
slant-eyed like Chinamen and Japs." 

“And they ain’t heathen," added Aunt Almira. 
“They don’t bow down to figgers of wood and 
stone." 

“Besides, Uncle," put in Janice, softly, and with 


20 How Janice Day Won 

a smile, ‘‘it is adobe not dough they build their houses 

ofr 

“Huh!'' snorted Uncle Jason. “Don’t keer a 
continental. He’s one foolish man. He'd better 
throw up the whole business, come back here to 
Polktown, and I’ll let him have a piece of the old 
farm to till.” 

“Oh I 'that would be lovely, Uncle Jason !” cried 
Janice, clasping her hands. “If he only could re- 
tire to dear Polktown for the rest of his life and 
we could live together in peace.” 

“Hi tunket!” exclaimed Marty, pushing back his 
chair from the supper table just as the outer door 
opened. “He kin have my share of the old farm,” 
for Marty had taken a mighty dislike to farm- 
ing and had long before this stated his desire to 
be a civil engineer. 

“At it ag'in, air ye, Marty?” drawled a voice from 
the doorway. “If repetition of what ye want makes 
detarmination. Mart, then you air the most de- 
tarmined man since Lot’s wife — and she was a 
woman, er-haw! haw! haw!” 

“Come in, Walky,” said Uncle Jason, greeting 
the broad and ruddy face of his neighbor with a 
brisk nod. 

“Set up and have a bite,” was Aunt 'Mira’s hos- 
pitable addition. 

“No, no! I had a snack down to the tavern, 
Marthy’s gone to see her folks terday and I didn’t 


“Talky” Dexter, Indeed! 


21 


’spect no supper to hum. I’m what ye call a grass- 
widderer. Haw! haw! haw!” explained the local 
expressman. 

Walky’s voice seemed louder than usual, his face 
was more beaming, and he was more prone to laugh 
at his own jokes. Janice and Marty exchanged 
glances as the expressman came in and took a chair 
that creaked under his weight. The girl, remember- 
ing what her cousin had said about the visitor, 
wondered if it were possible that Walky had been 
drinking and now showed the efiects of it. 

It was true, as Janice had once said — the ex- 
pressman should have been named 'Halk worthy” 
rather than “Walkworthy” Dexter. To-night he 
seemed much more talkative than usual. 

“What were all you younkers out o’ school so 
early for, Marty?” he asked. “Ain’t been an eper- 
demic o’ smallpox broke out, has there?” 

“Teachers’ meeting,” said Marty. “The Superin- 
tendent of Schools came over and they say we’re 
going to have fortnightly lectures on Friday after- 
noons — mebbe illustrated ones. Crackey! it don’t 
matter what they have,” declared this careless boy, 
“as long as ’tain’t lessons.” 

“Lectures?” repeated Walky. “Do tell! What 
sort of lectures ?” 

“I heard Mr. Haley say the first one would prob- 
erbly be illustrated by a collection of rare coins 
some rich feller’s lent the State School Board. 


22 


How Janice Day Won 


He says the coins are worth thousands of dollars.” 

^‘Lectures on coins?” cackled Walky. could 
give ye a lecture on ev’ry dollar me and Josephus 
ever aimed ! Haw ! haw ! haw !” 

Walky rolled in his chair in delight at his own 
wit. Uncle Jason was watching him with some curi- 
osity as he filled and lit his pipe. 

Walky,” he drawled, ‘‘what was the very hard- 
est dollar you ever aimed ? It strikes me that you 
alius have picked the softest jobs, arter all.” 

“Me? Soft jobs?” demanded Walkworthy, with 
some indignation. “Ye oughter try liftin’ some o’ 
them drummers’ sample-cases that I hafter wrastle 
with. Wal!” Then his face began to broaden and 
his eyes to twinkle. “Arter all, it was a soft job that 
I aimed my hardest dollar by, for a fac’.” 

“Let’s have it, Walky,” urged Marty. “Get it 
out of your system. You’ll feel better for it.” 

“Why, ter tell the truth,” grinned Walky, “it 
was a soft job, for I carried five pounds of feathers 
in a bolster twelve miles to old Miz’ Kittridge one 
Winter day when I was a boy. I got a dollar for 
it and come as nigh bein’ froze ter death as ever 
a boy did and save his bacon.” 

“Do tell us about it, Walky,” said Janice, who 
was wiping the supper dishes "for her aunt. 

“I should say it was a soft job — five pounds of 
feathers!” burst out Marty. 


23 


^Talky” Dexter, Indeed! 

‘‘How fur did you haf to travel, Walky?’' asked 
Aunt ’Mira. 

“Twelve mile over the snow and ice, me without 
snowshoes and it thirty below zero. Yes, sir!” 
went on Walky, beginning to stuff the tobacco into 
his own pipe from Mr. Day’s proffered sack. “That 
was some job! Miz Bob Kittridge, the old lady’s 
darter-in-law, give me the dollar and the job; and 
I done it. 

“The old lady lived over behind this here very 
mountain, all alone on the Kittridge farm. The 
tracks was jest natcherly blowed over and hid 
under more snow than ye ever see in a Winter now- 
adays. I believe there was five foot on a level in 
the woods. 

“There’d been a rain ; then she’d froze up ag’in,” 
pursued Walky. “It put a crust on the snow, but I 
had no idee it had made the ice rotten. And with 
Mr. Mercury creepin’ down to thirty below — jefers- 
pelters ! I’d no idee Mink Creek had open air-holes 
in it. I ain’t never understood it to this day. 

“Wal, sir! ye know where Mink Creek crosses 
the road to Kittridge’s, Jason?” 

Mr. Day nodded. “I know the place, Walky,” he 
agreed. 

“That’s where it happened,” said Walky Dexter, 
nodding his head many times. “I was crossin’ the 
stream, thinkin’ nothin’ could happen, and ’twas 
jest at sunup. I’d come six mile, and was jest 


24 


How Janice Day Won 


ha’f way to the farm. I kerried that piller-case 
over my shoulder, and slung from the other shoulder 
was a gun, and I had a hatchet in my belt. 

“Jefers-pelters! All of a suddint I slumped 
down, right through the snow-crust, and douced up 
ter my middle inter the coldest water I ever felt. I 
did, for a fac’ ! 

‘4 sprung out o’ that right pert, ye kin believe; 
and then the next step I went down ker-chug ! ag’in 
— this time up ter my armpits.” 

‘‘Crackey!” exclaimed Marty. “That was some 
slip. What did you do?” 

“I got out o’ that hole purty careful, now I tell ye ; 
but I left my cap floatin’ on the open pool o’ water,” 
the expressman said. “Why, I was a cake of ice in 
two minutes — and six miles from anywhere, which- 
ever way I turned.” 

“Oh, Walky!” ejaculated Janice, interested. 
“What ever did you do?” 

“Wal, I had either to keep on or go back. Didn’t 
much matter which. And in them days I hated 
ter gin up when I’d started a thing. But I had 
ter git that cap first of all. I couldn’t afford ter 
lose it nohow. And another thing. I’d a froze my 
ears if I hadn’t got it. 

“So I goes back to the bank of the crick and 
cut me a pole. Then I fished out the cap, wrung 
it out as good as I could, and clapped it on my head. 
Before I’d dumb the crick bank ag’in that cap 


“Talky” Dexter, Indeed! 


25 


was as stiff as one o’ them tin helmets ye read about 
them knights wearin’ in the middle ages — er-haw! 
haw! haw! 

'1 had ter laig it then, believe me!” pursued the 
expressman. "‘Was cased in ice right from my head 
ter my heels. Could git erlong jest erbout as grace- 
ful as one of these here cigar-store Injuns — er-haw ! 
haw! haw! 

“I dunno how I made it ter Ma’am Kittridge’s — 
but I done it! The old lady seen the plight I was 
in, and she made me sit down by the kitchen fire 
just like I was. Wouldn’t let me take off a thing. 

“She het up some kinder hot tea — like ter burnt 
all the skin off my tongue and throat, I swow!” 
pursued Walky. “Must ha’ drunk two quarts of it, 
an’ gradually it begun ter thaw me out from the 
inside. That’s how I saved my feet — sure’s you 
air born! 

“When I come inter her kitchen I clumped in with 
feet’s big as an elephant’s an’ no more feelin’ in 
them than as though they’d been boxes and not 
feet. If I’d peeled off that ice and them boots, the 
feet would ha’ come with ’em. But the old lady 
knowed what ter do, for a fac’. 

“Hardest dollar ever I aimed,” repeated Walky, 
shaking his head, “and jest carry in’ a mess of goose 
feathers 

“Hullo! who’s this here cornin’ aboard?” 

Janice had run to answer a knock at the side 


26 


How Janice Day Won 


door. Aunt 'Mira came more slowly with the sitting 
room lamp which she had lighted. 

“Well, Janice Day! Air ye all deef here?" ex- 
claimed a high and rather querulous voice. 

“Do come in, Mrs. Scattergood," cried the girl. 

“I declare, Miz Scattergood," said Aunt 'Mira, 
with interest, “you here at this time o' night? I 
am glad to see ye." 

“Guess ye air some surprised," said the snappy, 
birdlike old woman whom Janice ushered into the 
sitting room. “I only got back from Skunk’s 
Holler, where I been visitin', this very day. And 
what d’ye s’pose I found when I went into Hope- 
well Drugg’s?" 

“Goodness I" said Aunt 'Mira. “They ain't none 
o' them sick, be they?" 

“Sick enough, I guess," exclaimed Mrs. Scatter- 
good, nodding her head vigorously. “Leastways, 
'Rill oughter be. I told her so! I was faithful 
in season, and outer season, warnin' her what would 
happen if she married that Drugg." 

“Oh, Mrs. Scattergood! What has happened?" 
cried Janice, earnestly. 

“What's happened to Hopewell?" added Aunt 
'Mira. 

“Enough, I should say ! He's out carousin’ with 
that fiddle of his’n — down ter Lem Parraday’s tavern 
this very night with some wild gang of fellers, 
and my 'Rill hum with that child o' his'n. And 


‘^Talky” Dexter, Indeed! 


27 


what d’ye think ?” demanded Mrs. Scattergood, 
still excitedly. “What d’ye think’s happened ter 
that Lottie Drugg?” 

“Oh, my, Mrs. Scattergood! What has hap- 
pened to poor little Lottie?” Janice cried. 

“Why,” said ’Rill Drugg’s mother, lowering her 
voice a little and moderating her asperity. “The 
poor little thing’s goin’ blind again, I do believe!” 


CHAPTER III 


'^THE SEVENTH ABOMINATION^^ 

Sorrowful as Janice Day was because of the 
report upon little Lottie Drugg’s affliction, she was 
equally troubled regarding the storekeeper himself. 
Janice had a deep interest in both Mr. Drugg and 
’Rill Scattergood — '“that was,” to use a provincial- 
ism. The girl really felt as though she had helped 
more than a little to bring the storekeeper and the 
old-maid school-teacher together after so many years 
of misunderstanding. 

It goes without saying that Mrs. Scattergood 
had given no aid in making the match. Indeed, as 
could be gathered from what she said now, the 
birdlike woman had heartily disapproved of her 
daughter’s marrying the widowed storekeeper. 

“Yes,” she repeated; “there I found poor, foolish 
’Rill — her own eyes as red as a lizard’s — ^bathing 
that child’s eyes. I never did believe them Boston 
doctors could cure her. Yeou jest wasted your 
money, Janice Day, when you put up fer the opera- 
tion, and I knowed it at the time.” 

“Oh, I hope not, Mrs. Scattergood!” Janice re- 
plied. “Not that I care about the money; but I do, 
28 


“The Seventh Abomination” 


29 


do hope that little Lottie will keep her sight. The 
poor, dear little thing 

“What’s the matter with Lottie Drugg?” de- 
manded Marty, from the doorway. Walky Dexter 
had started homeward, and Marty and Mr. Day 
joined the women folk in the sitting room. 

“Oh, Marty!” Janice exclaimed, “Mrs. Scatter- 
good says there is danger of the poor child’s losing 
her sight again.” 

“And that ain’t, the wust of it,” went on Mrs. 
Scattergood, bridling. “My darter is an unfortunate 
woman. I knowed how ’twould be when she mar- 
ried that no-account Drugg. He sartainly was one 
‘drug on the market,’ if ever there was one I Always 
a-dreamin’ an’ never accomplishin’ anything. 

“Now Lem Parraday’s opened that bar of his’n — 
an’ he’d oughter be tarred an’ feathered for doin’ 
of it — I ’spect Hopewell will be bangin’ about there 
most of his time like the rest o’ the ne’er-do-well 
male critters of this town, an’ a-lettin’ of what little 
business he’s got go to pot.” 

“Oh, Miz Scattergood,” said Aunt ’Mira com- 
fortably, “I wouldn’t give way ter sech forebodin’s. 
Hopewell is rather better than the ordinary run of 
men, I allow.” 

Uncle Jason chuckled. “It never struck me,” 
he said, “that Hopewell was one o’ the carousin’ 
kind. I’d about as soon expec’ Mr. Middler to cut 
up sech didoes as Hope Drugg.” 


30 


How Janice Day Won 

Mrs. Scattergood flushed and her eyes snapped. 
If she was birdlike, she could peck like a bird, and 
her bill was sharp. 

“I reckon there ain’t none of you men any too 
good,” she said y ‘^minister, an’ all of ye. Oh ! I 
know enough about men, I sh’d hope! I hearn 
a lady speak at the Skunk’s Holler schoolhouse 
when I was there at my darter-in-law’s last week. 
She was one o’ them suffragettes ye hear about, and 
she knowed all about men and their doin’s. 

wouldn’t trust none o’ ye farther than I could 
sling an elephant by his tail! As for Hopewell 
Drugg — he never was no good, and he never will be 
wuth ha’f as much again!” 

“Well, well, well,” chuckled Uncle Jason, easily. 
“How did this here sufiferin-yet Tarn so much about 
the tribes o’ men ? I ’spect she was a spinster lady ?” 

“She was a Miss Pogannis,” was the tart reply. 

“Ya-as,” drawled Mr. Day. “It’s them that’s 
never summered and wintered a man that ’pears ter 
know the most about ’em. Ev’ry old maid in the 
world knows more about bringin’ up children than 
the wimmen that’s had a dozen.” 

“Oh, yeou needn’t think she didn’t know what 
she was talkin’ abeout!” cried Mrs. Scattergood, 
tossing her head. “She culled her examples from 
hist’ry, as well as modern times. Look at Abraham, 
Isaac, and Jacob ! All them men kep’ their wimmen 
in bondage. 


‘The Seventh Abomination” 


31 


‘‘D’yeou s’pose Sarah wanted to go trapesing all 
over the airth, ev’ry time Abraham wanted ter 
change his habitation ?’' demanded the argumentative 
siififragist. “Of course, he always said God told 
him to move, not the landlord. But, my soul ! a man 
will say anything. 

“An' see how Jacob treated Rachel " 

“Great Scott!” ejaculated Uncle Jason, letting his 
pipe go out. “I thought Jacob was a fav’rite hero 
of you wimmen folks. Didn’t he sarve — how many 
was it ? — fourteen year, for Rachel ?” 

“Bah!” exclaimed the old lady. “I ’spect she 
wished he’d sarved fourteen year more, when she 
seen the big family she had to wash and mend for. 
Don’t talk to me ! Wimmen’s never had their rights 
in this world yet, but they’re goin’ to get ’em now.” 

Here Aunt ’Mira broke in to change the topic of 
conversation to one less perilous : “I never did hear 
tell that Hopewell Drugg drank a drop. It’s a pity 
if he’s took it up so late in life — and him jest mar- 
ried.” 

“Wal! I jest tell ye what I know. There’s my 
’Rill cryin’ her eyes out an’ she confessed that 
Drugg had gone down to the tavern to fiddle, and 
that he’d been there before. She has to wait on 
store evenin’s, as well as take care of that young one, 
while he’s out carousin’.” 

“Carousin’ ! Gosh !” exploded Marty, suddenly. “I 
know what it is. There’s a bunch of fellers from 


32 


How Janice Day Won 


Middletown way cornin’ over to-night with their 
girls to hold a dance. I heard about it. Hope- 
well’s goin’ to play the fiddle for them to dance by. 
Tell you, the Inn’s gettin’ to be a gay place.” 

“It’s disgustin’ whatever it is!” cried Mrs. Scat- 
tergood, rather taken aback by Marty’s information, 
yet still clinging to her own opinion. It was not 
Mrs. Scattergood’s nature to scatter good — quite 
the opposite. “An’ no married man should attend 
sech didoes. Like enough he will drink with the 
rest of ’em. Oh, ’Rill will be sick enough of her 
job before she’s through with it, yeou mark my 
words.” 

“Oh, Mrs. Scattergood,” Janice said pleadingly, 
“I hope you are wrong. I would not want to see 
Miss ’Rill unhappy.” 

“She’s made her bed — let her lie in it,” said the 
disapproving mother, gloomily. “I warned her.” 

Later, both Janice and Marty went with Mrs. 
Scattergood to see her safely home. She lived 
in the half of a tiny cottage on High Street above 
the side street on which Hopewell Drugg had his 
store. Had it not been so late, Janice would have 
insisted upon going around to see “Miss ’Rill,” as 
all her friends still called the ex-school teacher, 
though she was married. 

As they were bidding their caller good night at 
her gate, a figure coming up the hill staggered into 


‘‘The Seventh Abomination” 


33 


the radiance of the street light on the comer. Janice 
gasped. Mrs. Scattergood ejaculated: 

“What did I tell ye?” 

Marty emitted a shrill whistle of surprise. 

“What d’ye know about that?” he added, in a low 
voice. 

There was no mistaking the figure which turned 
the corner toward Hopewell Drugg’s store. It was 
the proprietor of the store himself, with his fiddle 
in its green baize bag tightly tucked under his arm ; 
but his feet certainly were unsteady, and his head 
hung upon his breast. 

They saw him disappear into the darkness of the 
side street. Janice Day put her hand to her throat; 
it seemed to her as though the pulse beating there 
would choke her. 

“What did I tell ye? What did I tell ye?” cried 
the shrill voice of Mrs. Scattergood. '‘Now ye’ll 
believe what I say, I hope ! The disgraceful critter! 
My poor, poor ’Rill! I knew how ’twould be if she 
married that man.” 

It chanced that Janice Day’s Bible opened that 
night to the sixth of Proverbs and she read before 
going to bed these verses : 

“These six things doth the Lord hate ; yea, seven 
are an abomination unto him. 

“A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that 
shed innocent blood. 


34 


How Janice Day Won 


“An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet 
that be swift in running to mischief, 

“A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that 
soweth discord among brethren/* 


CHAPTER IV 


A RIFT IN THE HONEYMOON 

Janice could not call at the little grocery on 
the side street until Friday afternoon when she 
returned from Middletown for over Sunday. While 
the roads were so bad that she could not use her car 
in which to run back and forth to the seminary she 
boarded during the school days near the seminary. 

But 'Rill Drugg and little Lottie were continually 
in her mind. From Walky Dexter, with whom she 
rode home to Polktown on Friday, she gained some 
information that she would have been glad not to 
hear. 

“Talk abeout the ‘woman with the sarpint 
tongue,’ ” chuckled Walky. “We sartain sure have 
our share of she in Polktown.” 

“What is the matter now, Walky?” asked Janice, 
gaily, not suspecting what was coming. “Has some- 
body got ahead of you in circulating a particularly 
juicy bit of gossip?” 

“Huh !” snorted the expressman. “I gotter take a 
back seat, I have. Did ye hear ’bout Hopewell 
Drugg gittin’ drunk, an’ beatin’ his wife, an’ I dunno 
35 


36 


How Janice Day Won 

but they say by this time that it’s his fault lettle 
Lottie’s goin’ blind again — ^ — ” 

‘Dh, Walky! it can’t be true!” gasped the girl, 
horrified. 

“What can’t? That them old hens is sayin’ sech 
things ?” demanded the driver. 

“That Lottie is truly going blind?” 

“Dunno. She’s in a bad way. Hopewell wants 
to send her back to Boston as quick’s he can. I 
know that. And them sayin’ that he’s turned inter a 
reg’lar old drunk, an’ sich.” 

“What do you mean, Walky?” asked Janice, seri- 
ously. “You cannot be in earnest. Surely people 
do not say such dreadful things about Mr. Drugg?” 

“Fact. They got poor old Hopewell on the dis- 
sectin’ table, and the way them wimmen cut him 
up is a caution to cats I” 

“What women, Walky?” 

“His blessed mother-in-law, for one. And most 
of the Ladies Aid is a-follerin’ of her example. They 
air sayin’ he’s nex’ door to a ditch drunkard.” 

“Why, Walky Dexter! nobody would really be- 
lieve such talk about Mr. Drugg,” Janice declared. 

“Ye wouldn’t think so, would ye? We’ve all 
knowed Hopewell Drugg for years an’ years, and 
he’s alius seemed the mildest-mannered pirate that 
ever cut off a yard of turkey-red.“ But now — ^Jefers- 
pelters ! ye oughter hear ’em ! He gits drunk, beats 


37 


A Rift in the Honeymoon 

’Rill Scattergood, that was, and otherwise behaves 
himself like a hardened old villain.” 

‘‘Oh, Walky! I would not believe such things 
about Mr. Drugg — not if he told them to me him- 
self!” exclaimed Janice. 

“An’ I reckon nobody would ha’ dreamed sech 
things about him if Marm Scattergood hadn’t got 
home from Skunk’s Holler. I expect she stirred 
up things over there abeout as much as her son and 
his wife’d stand, and they shipped her back to 
Polktown. And Polktown — includin’ Hopewell — 
will hafter stand it.” 

“It is a shame!” cried Janice, with indignation. 
Then she added, doubtfully, remembering the un- 
fortunate incident she and Marty and Mrs. Scat- 
tergood had viewed so recently: “Of course, there 
isn’t a word of truth in it ?” 

“That Hopewell’s become a toper and beats his 
wife?” chuckled Walky. “Wal — I reckon not! May- 
be Hopewell takes a glass now and then — •! dunno. 
I never seen him. But they do say he went home 
airly from the dance at Lem Parraday’s t’other night 
in a slightly elevated condition. Haw ! haw ! haw !” 

“It is nothing to laugh at,” Janice said severely. 

“Nor nothin’ ter cry over,” promptly returned 
Walkworthy Dexter. “What’s a drink or two? It 
ain’t never hurt me. Why should it Hopewell?” 

“Don’t argue with me, Walky Dexter!” Janice 
exclaimed, much exasperated. “I — I hate it all — 


38 


How Janice Day Won 


this drinking. I never thought of it much before. 
Polktown has been free of that curse until lately. 
It is a shame the bar was ever opened at the Lake 
View Inn. And something ought to he done about 

itr 

Walky had pulled in his team for her to jump 
down before Hopewell Drugg’s store. '7^fers-pel- 
ters!” murmured the driver, scratching his head. ‘If 
that gal detarmines to put Lem Parraday out o’ the 
licker business, mebbe — mebbe I’d better go down 
an’ buy me another drink ’fore she does it. Haw! 
haw! haw!” 

Hopewell Drugg’s store was a very different look- 
ing shop now from its appearance that day when 
Janice had led little blind Lottie up from the wharf 
at Pine Cove and delivered her to her father for 
safe keeping. 

Then the goods had been dusty and fly-specked, 
and the interior of the store dark and musty. Now 
the shelves and showcases were neatly arranged, 
everything was scrupulously clean, and it was plain 
that the reign of woman had succeeded the pan- 
demonium of man. 

There was nobody in the store at the moment; 
but from the rear the sobbing tones of a violin 
took up the strains of “Silver Threads Among the 
Gold.” Janice listened. There seemed, to her ear, 
a sadder strain than ever in Hopewell’s playing of 
the old ballad. For a time this favorite had been 


39 


A Rift in the Honeymoon 

discarded for lighter and brighter melodies, for the 
little family here on the by-street had been won- 
derfully happy. 

They all three welcomed Janice Day joyfully now. 
The storekeeper, much sprucer in dress than here- 
tofore, smiled and nodded to her over the bridge 
of his violin. His wife, in a pretty print house dress, 
ran out from her sitting room where she was sewing, 
to take Janice in her arms. As for little Lottie, 
she danced about the visitor in glee. 

‘‘Oh, Janice Day! Oh, Janice Day! Looker 
me!” she crowed. “See my new dress? Isn’t it 
pretty? And Mamma ’Rill made it for me — all of 
it! She makes me lots and lots of nice things. 
Isn’t she just the bestest Mamma ’Rill that ever 
was?” 

“She certainly is,” admitted Janice, laughing and 
kissing the pretty child. But she looked anxiously 
into the beautiful blue eyes, too. Nothing there be- 
trayed growing visual trouble. Yet, when Lottie 
Drugg was stone-blind, the expression of her eyes 
had been lovely. 

“Weren’t you and your papa lucky to get such 
a mamma?” continued Janice with a swift glance 
over her shoulder at Hopewell. 

The storekeeper was drawing the bow across the 
strings softly and just a murmur came from them as 
he listened. His eyes, Janice saw, were fixed in 
pride and satisfaction upon his wife’s trim figure. 


40 


How Janice Day Won 


On her part, Mrs. Drugg seemed her usual brisk, 
kind self. Yet there was a cheerful note lacking 
here. The honeymoon for such a loving couple 
could not yet have waned; but there was a rift in it. 

‘Rill wanted to talk. Janice could see that. The 
young girl had been the school teacher’s only con- 
fidant previous to her marriage to Hopewell Drugg, 
and she still looked upon Janice as her dearest friend. 
They left Lottie playing in the back room of the 
store and listening to her father’s fiddle, while ’Rill 
closed the door between that room and the dwelling. 

“Oh, my dear !” Janice hastened to ask, first of all, 
“is it true?” 

’Rill flushed and there was a spark in her eye — 
Janice thought of indignation. Indeed, her voice 
was rather sharp as she asked: 

“Is what true?” 

“About Lottie. Her eyes — you know.” 

“Oh, the poor little thing!” and instantly the step- 
mother’s countenance changed. “Janice, we don’t 
know. Poor Hopewell is ’most worried to death. 
Sometimes it seems as though there was a blur over 
the child’s eyes. And she has never got over her 
old habit of shutting her eyes and seeing with her 
fingers, as she calls it.” 

“Ah! I know,” the girl said. “But that does 
not necessarily mean that she has difficulty with her 
vision.” 

“That is true. And the doctor in Boston wrote 



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A Rift in the Honeymoon 


41 


that, at times, there might arise some slight cloud- 
ing of the vision if she used her eyes too much, if 
she suffered other physical ills, even if she were 
frightened or unhappy.” 

“The last two possibilities may certainly be set 
aside,” said Janice, with confidence. “And she is 
as rosy and healthy looking as she could be.” 

“Yes,” said ’Rill. 

“Then what can it be that has caused the trouble?” 

“We cannot imagine,” with a sigh. “It — it is 
worrying Hopewell, night and day.” 

“Poor man!” 

“He — he is changed a great deal, Janice,” whis- 
pered the bride. 

Janice was silent, but held ’Rill’s hand in her own 
comforting clasp. 

“Don’t think he isn’t good to me. He is! He 
is ! He is the sweetest tempered man that ever lived ! 
You know that, yourself. And I thought I was 
going to make him — oh ! — so happy.” 

“Hush! hush, dear!” murmured Janice, for Mrs. 
Drugg’s eyes had run over and she sobbed aloud. 
“He loves you just the same. I can see it in the 
way he looks at you. And why should he not 
love you?” 

“But he has lost his cheerfulness. He worries 
about Lottie, I know. There — there is another 
thing ” 

She stopped. She pursued this thread of thought 


42 


How Janice Day Won 


no further. Janice wondered then — and she won- 
dered afterward — if this unexplained anxiety con- 
nected Hopewell Drugg with the dances at the Lake 
View; Inn, 


CHAPTER V 


^'tHE bluebird FOR HAPPINESS"^ 

Could it be possible that Janice Day had alighted 
from Walky Dexter’s old carryall at the little gro- 
cery store for still another purpose? It was wan- 
ing afternoon, yet she did not immediately make her 
way homeward. 

Mrs. Beaseley lived almost across the street from 
Hopewell Drugg’s store, and Nelson Haley, the 
principal of Polktown’s graded school, boarded with 
the widow. Janice ran in to see her “just for a 
moment.’’ Therefore, it could scarcely be counted 
strange that the young school principal should have 
caught the girl in Mrs. Beaseley’s bright kitchen 
when he came home with his satchel of books and 
papers. 

“There! I do declare for’tl” ejaculated the 
widow, who was a rather lugubrious woman living 
in what she believed to be the remembrance of “her 
sainted Charles.” 

“There ! I do declare for’t ! I git to talkin’ and 
I forgit how the time flies. That’s what my poor 
Charles uster say — he had that fault to find with me, 
43 


44 


How Janice Day Won 

poor soul. I couldn’t never seem to git the vittles 
on the table on time when I was young. 

''I was mindin’ to make you a shortcake for 
your supper to-night, Mr. Haley, out o’ some o’ them 
peaches I canned last Fall! But it’s so late ■” 

^'You needn’t hurry supper on my account, Mrs. 
Beaseley,” said Nelson, cheerily, and without re- 
moving his gloves. ‘‘I find I’ve to go downtown 
again on an errand. I’ll not be back for an hour.” 

Janice was smiling merrily at him from the door- 
way. 

Mrs. Beaseley began to bustle about. “That’ll 
give me just time to toss up the shortcake,” she 
proclaimed. “Good-bye, Janice. Come again. Mr. 
Haley’ll like to walk along with you, I know.’* 

Mrs. Beaseley was blind to what most people in 
Polktown knew — that Janice and the schoolteacher 
were the very closest of friends. Only their years — 
at least, only Janice’s youth — precluded an an- 
nounced engagement between them. 

“Wait until I can come home and get a square 
look at this phenomenal young man whom you have 
found in Polktown,” Daddy had written, and Janice 
would not dream of going against her father’s ex- 
pressed wish. 

Besides, Nelson Haley was a poor young man, 
with his own way to make in the world. His work 
in the Polktown school had attracted the attention 
of the faculty of a college not far away, and he 


“The Bluebird — for Happiness’’ 45 


had already been invited to join the teaching staff 
of that institution. 

Janice had been the young man’s inspiration when 
he had first come to Polktown, a raw college gradu- 
ate, bent only on ‘‘teaching for a living” and on 
earning his salary as easily as possible. Awakened 
by his desire to stand well in the estimation of the 
serious-minded girl — eager to “make good” with 
her — Nelson Haley had put his shoulder to the 
wheel, and the result was Polktown’s fine new graded 
school, with the young man himself at the head 
of it. 

Nelson was good looking — extremely good look- 
ing, indeed. He was light, not dark like Janice, 
and he was muscular and sturdy without being at 
all fleshy. The girl was proud of him — he was al- 
ways so well-dressed, so gentlemanly, and carried 
himself with such an assured air. Daddy was bound 
to be pleased with a young man like Nelson Haley, 
once he should see the schoolteacher! 

In his companionship now, Janice rather lost 
sight of the troubles that had come upon her of late. 
Nelson told her of his school plans as they strolled 
down High Street. 

“And I fancy these lectures and readings the 
School Committee are arranging will be a good 
thing,” the young man said. “We’ll slip a little 
extra information to the boys and girls of Polktown 
without their suspecting it.” 


46 


How Janice Day Won 


‘‘Sugar-coated pills?’* laughed Janice. 

“Yes. The old system of pounding knowledge 
into the infant cranium isn’t in vogue any more.” 

“Poor things!” murmured Janice Day, from the 
lofty rung of the scholastic ladder she had attained. 
“Poor things ! I don’t blame them for wondering : 
‘What’s the use ?’ Marty wonders now, old as he is. 
There is such a lot to learn in the world 1” 

They talked of other things, too, and it was the 
appearance of Jim Narnay weaving a crooked trail 
across High Street toward the rear of the Inn that 
brought back to the girl’s mind the weight of new 
trouble that had settled upon it. 

“Oh, dear I there’s that poor creature,” murmured 
Janice. “And I haven’t been to see how his family 
is.” 

“Who — Jim Namay’s family?” asked Nelson. 

“Yes.” 

“You’d better keep away from such people, Jan- 
ice,” the young man said urgently. 

“Why?” 

“You don’t want to mix with such folk, my dear,” 
repeated the young man, shaking his head. “What 
good can it do? The fellow is a drunken rascal 
and not worth striving to do anything for.” 

“But his family? The poor little children?” said 
Janice, softly. 

“If you give them money, Jim’ll drink it up.” 

“I believe that,” admitted Janice. “So I won’t 


“The Bluebird — for Happiness” 47 


give them money. But I can buy things for them 
that they need. And the poor little baby is sick. 
That cunning Sophie told me so.” 

^'Goodness, Janice!” laughed Nelson, yet with 
some small vexation. ‘T see there’s no use in op- 
posing your charitable instincts. But I really wish 
you would not get acquainted with every rag-tag 
and bob-tail in town. First those Trimminses — • 
and now these Narnays !” 

Janice laughed at this. ‘‘Why, they can’t hurt 
me, Nelson. And perhaps I might do them good.” 

“You cannot handle charcoal without getting some 
of the smut on your fingers,” Nelson declared, dog- 
matically. 

“But they are not charcoal. They are just some 
of God’s unfortunates,” added the young girl, gently. 
“It is not Sophie’s fault that her father drinks. 
And maybe it isn’t altogether his fault.” 

“What arrant nonsense!” exclaimed Nelson, with 
some exasperation. “It always irritates me when 
I hear these old topers excused. A man should be 
able to take a glass of wine rr beer or spirits — or 
let it alone.” 

“Yes, indeed. Nelson,” agreed Janice, demurely. 
“He ought to.” 

The young man glanced sharply into her rather 
serious countenance. He suspected that she was not 
agreeing with him, after all, very strongly. Finally 


48 


How Janice Day Won 


he laughed, and the spark of mischief immediately 
danced in Janice Day’s hazel eyes. 

‘‘That is just where the trouble lies, Nelson, with 
drinking intoxicating things. People should be able 
to drink or not, as they feel inclined. But alcohol 
is insidious. Why! you teach that in your own 
classes. Nelson Haley!” 

“Got me there,” admitted the young school prin- 
cipal, with a laugh. Then he became sober again, 
and added : “But / can take a drink or leave it alone 
if I wish.” 

“Oh, Nelson! You lon't use alcoholic beverages, 
do you?” cried Janice, quite shocked. “Oh! you 
don't, do you?” 

“My, my! See what a little fire-cracker it is!” 
laughed Nelson. “Did I say I was in the habit of 
going into Lem Parraday’s bar and spending my 
month’s salary in fiery waters?” 

“Oh, but Nelson ! You don’t approve of the use 
of liquor, do you?” 

“Pm not sure that I do,” returned the young man, 
more gravely. “And yet I believe in every person 
having perfect freedom in that as well as other mat- 
ters.” 

“Anarchism!” cried Janice, yet rather seriously, 
too, although her lips smiled. 

“I know the taste of all sorts of beverages,” the 
young man said. “I was in with rather a sporty 


‘‘The Bluebird — for Happiness” 49 


bunch at college, for a while. But I knew I could 
not afford to keep up that pace, so I cut it out.” 

‘‘Oh, Nelson!” Janice murmured. ‘‘It’s too bad!” 

“Why, it never hurt me,” answered the young 
schoolmaster. “It never could hurt me. A gentle- 
man eats temperately and drinks temperately. Of 
course, I would not go into the Lake View Inn and 
call for a drink, now that I am teaching school 
here. My example would be bad for the boys. And 
I fancy the School Committee would have some- 
thing to say about it, too,” and he laughed again, 
lightly. 

They had turned into Hillside Avenue and the 
way was deserted save for themselves. The warm 
glow of sunset lingered about them. Lights twink- 
ling in the kitchens as they went along announced 
the preparation of the evening meal. 

Janice clasped her hands over Nelson’s arm con- 
fidingly and looked earnestly up into his face. 

“Nelson !” she said softly, “don’t even think about 
drinking anything intoxicating. I should be afraid 
for you. I should worry about the hold it might 
get upon you ” 

“As it has on Jim Narnay ?” interrupted the young 
man, laughing. 

“No,” said Janice, still gravely. “You would 
never be like him, I am sure ” 

“Nor will drink ever affect me in any way — ^no 
fear ! I know what I am about. I have a will of 


50 


How Janice Day Won 


my own, I should hope. I can control my appetites 
and desires. And I should certainly never al- 
low such a foolish habit as tippling to get a strangle 
hold on me.^^ 

“Of course, I know you won’t,” agreed Janice. 

“I thank goodness I’m not a man of habit, in 
any case,” continued Nelson, proudly. “One of our 
college professors has said : ‘There is only one thing 
worse than a bad habit — ^and that’s a good habit.’ 
It is true. No man can be a well-rounded and per- 
fectly poised man, if he is hampered by habits of 
any kind. Habits narrow the mind and contract 

one’s usefulness in the world ” 

“Oh, Nelson !” excitedly interrupted Janice. “See 
the bluebird ! The first I have seen this Spring. The 
dear, little, pretty thing!” 

Good-night!” exploded the school teacher, with 
a burst of laughter. “My little homily is put out 
of business. A bluebird, indeed 1” 

“But the bluebird is so pretty — and so welcome 
in Spring. See! there he goes.” Then she added 
softly, still clinging to Nelson’s arm: 

“ ‘The bluebird — for happiness.’ ” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE TENTACLES OF THE MONSTER 

T HE sweet south wind blew that night and helped 
warm to life the Winter-chilled breast of Mother 
Earth. Her pulses leaped, rejuvenated ; the mellow- 
ing soil responded; bud and leaf put forth their 
effort to reach the sun and air. 

At Janice Day’s casement the odors of the freshly- 
turned earth and of the growing things whispered 
of the newly begun season. The ruins of the ancient 
fortress across the lake to the north still frowned in 
the mists of night when Janice left her bed and 
peered from the open window, looking westward. 

Behind the mountain-top which towered over 
Polktown it was already broad day; but the sim 
would not appear, to gild the frowning fortress, or 
to touch the waters of the lake with its magic wand, 
for yet several minutes. 

As the first red rays of the sun graced the rugged 
prospect across the lake, Janice went through the 
barnyard and climbed the uphill pasture lane. She 
was bound for the great ‘‘Overlook” rock in the 
second-growth, from which spot she never tired of 
looking out upon the landscape — and upon life itself. 

51 


52 


How Janice Day Won 


Janice Day took many of her problems to the 
Overlook. There, alone with the wild things of the 
wood, with nothing but the prospect to tempt her 
thoughts, she was wont to decide those momentous 
questions that come into every young girl’s life. 

As she sped up the path past the sheep sheds on 
this morning, her feet were suddenly stayed by a 
most unexpected incident. Janice usually had the 
hillside to herself at this hour; but now she saw a 
dark figure huddled under the shelter, the open 
side of which faced her. • 

“A bear !” thought Janice. Yet there had not been 
such a creature seen in the vicinity of Polktown 
for years, she knew. 

She hesitated. The "‘bear” rolled over, stretched 
himself, and yawned a most prodigious yawn. 

“Goodness, mercy, me!” murmured Janice Day. 
“It’s a man I” 

But it was not. It was a boy. Janice popped 
down behind a boulder and watched, for at first 
she had no idea who he could be. Certainly he 
must have been up here in the sheepfold all night; 
and a person who would spend a night in the open, 
on the raw hillside at this time of year, must have 
something the matter with him, to be sure. 

“Why — why, that’s Jack Besmith! He worked 
for Mr. Massey all Winter. What is he doing 
here?” murmured Janice. 

She did not rise and expose herself to the fellow’s 


The Tentacles of the Monster 53 


gaze. For one thing, the ex-drug clerk looked very 
rough in both dress and person. 

His uncombed hair was littered with straw and 
bits of com-blades from the fodder on which he 
had lain. His clothing was stained. He wore no 
linen and the shoes on his feet were broken. 

Never in her life had Janice Day seen a more 
desperate looking young fellow and she was actually 
afraid of him. Yet she knew he came of a respect- 
able family, and that he had a decent lodging in 
town. What business had he up here at her uncle’s 
sheep fold? 

Janice continued her walk no farther. She re- 
mained in hiding until she saw Jack Besmith stumble 
out of the sheep pasture and down the hill behind 
the Day stables — taking a retired route toward 
the village. 

Coming down into the barnyard once more, Janice 
met Marty with a foaming milk pail. 

^‘Hullo, early bird !” he sang out. “Did you catch 
the worm this morning?” 

Janice shuddered a trifle. “I believe I did, 
Marty,” she confessed. “At least, I saw some such 
crawling thing.” 

“Hi tunket! Not a snake so early in the year?” 

“I don't know,” and his cousin smiled, yet with 
gravity. 

“Huh?” queried the boy, with curiosity, for he 
saw that something unusual had occurred. 


54 


How Janice Day Won 


Janice gravely told him whom she had seen in 
the sheepfold. ‘‘And, Marty, I believe he must 
have been up there all night — sleeping outdoors 
such weather as this. What for, do you suppose 

Marty professed inability to explain; but after 
he had taken the milk in to his mother, he slipped 
away and ran up to the sheep pasture himself. 

“I say, Janice,’’ he said, grinning, when he came 
back. "1 can solve the mystery, I can.” 

“What mystery?” asked his cousin, who was 
flushed now with helping her aunt get breakfast. 

“The mystery of the ‘early worm’ that you saw 
this mornin’.” He brought his hand from behind 
him and displayed an empty, amber-colored flask on 
which was a gaudy label announcing its contents to 
have been whiskey and sold by “L. Parraday, Polk- 
townP 

“Oh, dear ! Is that the trouble with the Besmith 
boy?” murmured Janice. 

“That’s how he came to lose his job with Mas- 
sey.” 

“Poor fellow! He looked dreadful!” 

“Oh, he’s a bad egg,” said her cousin, carelessly. 

Janice hurried through breakfast, for the car was 
to be brought forth to-day. Marty had been fuss- 
ing over it for almost a week. The wind was dry- 
ing up the roads and it was possible for Janice to 
take a spin out into the open country. 


The Tentacles of the Monster 55 


Marty’s prospects of enjoying the outing, how- 
ever, were nipped before he could leave the table. 

'Throw the chain harness on the colts, Marty,” 
said his father. "The ’tater-patch is dry enough to 
put the plow in. And I’ll want ye to help me.” 

"Oh — Dad ! I got to help Janice get her car out. 
This ain’t no time to plow for ’taters,” declared 
Marty. 

"Your mouth’ll be open wider’n anybody else’s 
in the house for the ’taters when they’re grown,” 
said Uncle Jason, calmly. "You got to do your 
share toward raisin’ ’em.” 

"Oh, Dad !” ejaculated the boy again. 

"Now, Marty, you stop talkin’ !” cried his mother. 

"Huh! you wanter make a feller dumb around 
here, too. S’pose Janice breaks down on the road ?” 
he added, with reviving hope. 

"I guess she’ll find somebody that knows fully 
as much about them gasoline buggies as you do. 
Son,” observed Uncle Jason, easily. "You an’ me’ll 
tackle the ’tater field.” 

When his father spoke so positively Marty knew 
there was no use trying to change him. He frowned, 
and muttered, and kicked the table leg as he got up, 
but to no avail. 

Janice, later, got into her car and started for a 
ride. She put the Kremlin right at the hill and it 
climbed Hillside Avenue with wonderful ease. The 
engine purred prettily and not a thing went wrong. 


56 


How Janice Day Won 


“Poor Marty! It’s too bad he couldn’t go, too,” 
she thought. “I’d gladly share this with somebody.” 

Nelson, she knew, was busy this forenoon. It 
took no little of his out-of-school time to prepare the 
outline for the ensuing week’s work. Besides, on 
this Saturday morning, there was a special meeting 
of the School Committee, as he had told her the 
afternoon before. Something to do with the course 
of lectures before mentioned. And the young prin- 
cipal of Polktown’s graded school was very faith- 
ful to his duties. 

She thought of Mrs. Drugg and little Lottie ; but 
there was trouble at the Drugg home. Somehow, 
on this bright, sweet-smelling morning, Janice 
shrank from touching anything unpleasant, or com- 
ing into communication with anybody who was not 
in attune with the day. 

She was fated, however, to rub elbows with 
Trouble wherever she went and whatever she did. 
She ran the Kremlin past the rear of Walky Dex- 
ter’s place and saw Walky himself currying Jose- 
phus and his mate on the stable floor. The man 
waved his currycomb at her and grinned. But his 
well-known grimace did not cheer Janice Day. 

“Dear me! Poor Walky is in danger, too,” 
thought the young girl. “Why ! the whole of Polk- 
town is changing. In some form or other that 
liquor selling at the Inn touches all our lives. I 
wonder if other people see it as plainly as I do.” 


The Tentacles of the Monster 57 


She ran up into the Upper Middletown Road, 
as far out as Elder Concannon’s. The old gentle- 
man — once Janice Day’s very stern critic, but now 
her staunch friend — was in the yard when Janice 
approached in her car. He waved a cordial hand 
at her and turned away from the man he had been 
talking with. 

''Well, there ye have it, Trimmins,” the girl heard 
the elder say, as her engine stopped. "If you can 
find a man or two to help you. I’ll let you have a 
team and you can go in there and haul them logs. 
There’s a market for ’em, and the logs lie jest right 
for hauling. You and your partner can make a 
profit, and so can I.’'’ 

Then he said to Janice: "Good morning, child! 
You’re as fresh to look at as a morning-glory.” 

She had nodded and smiled at the patriarchal 
old" gentleman ; but her eyes were now on the long 
and lanky looking woodsman who stood by. 

"Good day, Mr. Trimmins,” she said, when she 
had returned Elder Concannon’s greeting. "Is Mrs. 
Trimmins well? And my little Virginia and all 
the rest of them?” 

"The fambly’s right pert. Miss,” Trimmins said. 

Janice had a question or two to ask the elder re- 
garding the use of the church vestry for some ex- 
ercises by the Girl’s Guild of which she had been 
the founder and was still the leading spirit. 

"Goodness, yes!” agreed the elder. "Do anything 


58 


How Janice Day Won 


you like, Janice, if you can keep those young ones 
interested in anything besides dancing and parties. 
Still, what can ye expect of the young gals when 
their mothers are given up to folly and dissipation ? 

‘There’s Mrs. Marvin Petrie and Mrs. Major 
Price want to be ‘patronesses,’ I believe they call 
themselves, of an Assembly Ball, an’ want to hold 
the ball at Lem Parraday’s hotel. It’s bad enough 
to have them dances; but to have ’em at a place 
where liquor is sold, is a sin and a shame! I wish 
Lem Parraday had lost the hotel entirely, before he 
got a liquor license.” 

“Oh, Elder! It is dreadful that liquor should 
be sold in Polktown,” Janice said, from the seat of 
the automobile. “I’m just beginning to see it.” 

“That’s what it is,” said the elder, sturdily. 

“It’s a shame Mr. Parraday was ever allowed to 
have a license at the Lake View Inn.” 

“Wal — it does seem too bad,” the elder agreed, 
but with less confidence in his tone. 

“I know they say the Inn scarcely paid him and his 
wife, and he might have had to give it up this 
Spring,” Janice said. 

“Ahem! That would have been unfortunate for 
the mortgagee,” slowly observed the old man. 

“Mr. Cross Moore?” Janice quickly rejoined. 
“Well! he could afiFord to lose a little money if any- 
body could.” 

“Tut, tut!” exclaimed the elder, who had a vast 


The Tentacles of the Monster 59 


respect for money. '‘Don’t say that, child. Nobody 
can afford to lose money.” 

Janice turned her car about soberly. She saw 
that the ramification of this liquor selling business 
was far-reaching, indeed. Elder Concannon spoke 
only too truly. 

Where self-interest was concerned most people 
would lean toward the side of liquor selling. 

“The tentacles of the monster have insinuated 
themselves into our social and business life, as well 
as into our homes,” she thought. “Why — why, 
what can I do about it? Just me, a girl all alone.” 


CHAPTER VII 


SWEPT ON BY THE CURRENT 

Janice picked up Trimmins on the road to town. 
The lanky Southerner, who lived as a squatter with 
his ever-increasing family back in the woods, was 
a soft-spoken man with much innate politeness and 
a great distaste for regular work. He said the elder 
had just offered him a job in the woods that he was 
going to take if he could get a man to help him. 

“I heard you talking about it, Mr. Trimmins,’’ 
the young girl said, with her eyes on the road ahead 
and her foot on the gas pedal. ‘T hope you will 
make a good thing out of it.” 

‘‘Not likely. The elder’s too close for that,” re- 
sponded the man, with a twinkle in his eye. 

‘‘Yes. I suppose that Elder Concannon considers 
a small profit sufficient. He got his money that way 
— by ‘littles and dribbles’ — and I fancy he thinks 
small pay is all right.” 

“My glo-r^^/ You bet he does!” said Trimmins. 
“But the elder never had but one — leastways, two — 
chillen to raise. He wouldn’t ha’ got rich very fast 
with my family — no, sir!” 

“Perhaps that is so,” Janice admitted. 

60 


61 


Swept On by the Current 

‘'Tell ye what, Miss,’’ the woodsman went on 
to say, ‘‘a man ought to git paid accordin’ to the 
mouths there is to home to feed. I was readin’ in 
a paper t’other day that it took ten dollars a week 
to take proper care of a man and his wife, and there 
ought to be added to them ten dollars two dollars a 
week ev’ry time they got a baby.” 

“Why! wouldn’t that be fine?” cried Janice, laugh- 
ing. 

“It sure would be a help,” said Trimmins, the 
twinkle in his eye again. “I reckon both me an’ 
Narnay would ’predate it.” 

“Oh! you mean Jim Narnay?” asked Janice, with 
sudden solemnity. 

“Yes ma’am. I’m goin’ to see him now. He’s 
a grand feller with the axe and I want him to help 
me. 

Janice wondered how much work would really be 
done by the two men if they were up in the woods 
together. Yet Mrs. Narnay and the children might 
get along better without Jim. Janice had made some 
inquiries and learned that Mrs. Narnay was an in- 
dustrious woman, working steadily over her wash- 
tub, and keeping the children in comparative com- 
fort when Jim was not at home to drink up a good 
share of her earnings. 

“Are you going down to the cove to see Narnay 
now, Mr. Trimmins?” Janice asked, as she turned 
the automobile into the head of High Street. 


62 


How Janice Day Won 

“Yes, ma’am. That is, if I don’t find him at Lem 
Parraday’s.” 

“Oh, Mr. Trimmins!” exclaimed Janice, earnestly. 
“Look for him at the house first. And don’t you 
go near Lem Parraday’s, either.” 

“Wal !” drawled the man. “I s’pose you air right, 
Miss.” 

“I’ll drive you right down to the cove,” Janice 
said. “I want to see little Sophie and — and her 
mother.” 

“Whatever you say. Miss,” agreed the woodsman. 

They followed a rather rough street coveward, 
but arrived safely at the small collection of cot- 
tages, in one of which the Narnays lived. Jim Nar- 
nay was evidently without money, for he sat on 
the front stoop, sober and rather neater than Janice 
was used to seeing him. He was whittling a toy of 
some kind for the little boys, both of whom were 
hanging upon him. 

Their attitude, as well as what Sophie Narnay had 
told her, assured Janice that the husband and father 
of the household was not a cruel man when he was 
sober. The children still loved him, and he evi- 
dently loved them. 

“Got a job, Jim?” asked Trimmins, after thank- 
ing Janice for the ride, and getting out of the auto- 
mobile. 

“Not a smitch of work since I come out of the 


63 


Swept On by the Current 

woods,” admitted the bewhiskered man, rising 
quickly from the stoop to make way for Janice. 

‘Come on, old feller,” said Trimmins. “I want 
to talk to you. If you are favorable inclined, I 
reckon I got jest the job you’ve been lookin’ for.” 

The two went off behind the cottage. Janice 
did not know then that there was a short cut to High 
Street and the Lake View Inn. 

Sophie came running to the door to welcome the 
visitor, her thin little arms red and soapy from dish- 
water. 

‘T knowed ’twas you,” she said, smiling happily. 
“They told me you was the only girl in town that 
owned x)ne o’ them cars. And I told mom that you 
must be awful rich and kind. Course, you must be, 
or you couldn’t afford to give away ten cent pieces 
so easy.” 

Mrs. Narnay came to the door, too, her arms 
right out of the washtub; but Janice begged her 
not to inconvenience herself. “Keep right on with 
your work and I’ll come around to the back and sit 
on that stoop,” said the young girl. 

“And you must see the baby,” Sophie urged. “I 
can bring out the baby if I wrap her up good, can’t 
I, Marm?” 

“Have a care with the poor child, Sophie,” said 
Mrs. Narnay, wearily. “Where’s your pop gone?” 

“He’s walked out with Mr. Trimmins,” said the 
little girl. 


64 


How Janice Day Won 


The woman sighed, and Janice, all through her 
visit, could see that she was anxious about her 
absent husband. The baby was brought out — a piti- 
fully thin, but pretty child — and Sophie nursed her 
little sister with much enjoyment. 

“I wisht she was twins,^’ confessed the little girl. 
“It must be awful jolly to have twins in the family.^’ 

“My soul, child !” groaned Mrs. Narnay. “Don’t 
talk so reckless. One baby at a time is affliction 
enough — as ye’ll find out for yourself some day.” 

Janice, leaving a little gift to be hidden from Jim 
Narnay and divided among the children, went away 
finally, with the determination that Dr. Poole should 
see the baby again and try to do something for the 
poor, little, weakly thing. Trimmins and Jim Nar- 
nay had disappeared, and Janice feared that, after 
all, they had drifted over to the Inn, there to cele- 
brate the discovery of the job they both professed 
to need so badly. 

“That awful bar!” Janice told herself. “If it 
were not here in Polktown those two ne’er-do-wells 
would have gone right about their work without 
any celebration at all. I guess Mrs. Scattergood is 
right — Mr. Lem Parraday ought to be tarred and 
feathered for ever taking out that license! And 
how about the councilmen who voted to let him have 
it?” 

As she wheeled into High Street once more a tall. 


65 


Swept On by the Current 

well groomed young man, with rosy cheeks and the 
bluest of blue eyes, hailed her from the sidewalk. 

“Oh, Janice Day \” he cried. “How's the going?" 

“Mr. Bowman ! I didn't know you had returned," 
Janice said, smiling and stopping the car. “The 
going is pretty good." 

“Have you been around by the Lower Road where 
my gang is working?" 

“No," Janice replied. “But Marty says the turn- 
out is being put in and that the bridge over the creek 
is almost done." 

“Good! I'll get over there by and by to see for 
myself." He had set down a heavy suitcase and 
still held a traveling bag. “Just now," he added, 
“I am hunting a lodging." 

“Hunting a lodging ? Why ! I thought you were 
a fixture with Marm Parraday," Janice said. 

“I thought so, too. But it's got too strong for me 
down there. Besides, it is a rule of the Railroad 
Company that we shall find board, if possible, where 
no liquor is sold. I had a room over the bar and 
it is too noisy for me at night." 

“Marm Parraday will be sorry to lose you, Mr. 
Bowman," Janice said. “Isn't it dreadful that they 
should have taken up the selling of liquor there?" 

“Bad thing," the young civil engineer replied, 
promptly. “I'm sorry for Marm Parraday. Lem 
ought to be kicked for ever getting the license," he 
added vigorously. 


66 


How Janice Day Won 

‘‘Dear me, Mr. Bowman,” sighed Janice. “I 
wish everybody thought as you do. Polktown needs 
reforming.” 

“What ! Again ?” cried the young man, laughing 
suddenly. Then he added : “I expect, if that is so, 
you will have to start the reform. Miss Janice. And 
— and you’d better start it with your friend, Hope- 
well Drugg. Really, they are making a fool of him 
around the Inn — and he doesn’t even know it.” 

“Oh, Mr. Bowman! what do you mean?” called 
Janice after him; but the young man had picked up 
his bag and was marching away, so that he did not 
hear her question. Before she could start her en- 
gine he had turned into a side street. 

She ran back up Hillside Avenue in good season 
for dinner. The potato patch was plowed and 
Marty had gone downtown on an errand. Janice 
backed the car into the garage and went upstairs 
to her room to change her dress for dinner. She 
was there when Marty came boisterously into the 
kitchen. 

“My goodness ! what’s the matter with you, Marty 
Day?” asked his mother shrilly. “What’s hap- 
pened?” 

“It’s Nelson Haley,” the boy said, and Janice 
heard him plainly, for the door at the foot of the 
stairs was ajar. “It’s awful! They are going to 
arrest him !” 


67 


Swept On by the Current 

“What do you mean, Marty Day? Be you 
crazy?'’ Mrs. Day demanded. 

“What’s this? One o’ your cheap jokes?” asked 
the boy’s father, who chanced to be in the kitchen, 
too. 

“Guess Nelson Haley don’t think it’s a joke,” said 
the boy, his voice still shaking. “I just heard all 
about it. There ain’t many folks know it yet ” 

“Stop that !” cried his mother. “You tell us plain 
what Mr. Haley’s done.” 

“Ain’t done nothin’, of course. But they say 
he has,” Marty stoutly maintained. 

“Then what do they accuse him of?” queried Mr. 
Day. 

“They accuse him of stealin’! Hi tunket! ain’t 
that the meanest thing ye ever heard?” cried the 
boy. “Nelson Haley, stealin’. It gets me for fair!” 

“Why — why I can’t believe it!” Aunt ’Mira 
gasped, and she sat down with a thud on one of the 
kitchen chairs. 

“I got it straight,” Marty went on to say. “The 
School Committee’s all in a row over it. Ye see, 
they had the coins ” 

*'Who had what coins?” cried his mother. 

“The School Committee. That collection of gold 
coins some rich feller lent the State Board of Educa- 
tion for exhibition at the lecture next Friday. They 
only come over from Middletown last night and Mr. 
Massey locked them in his safe.” 


68 


How Janice Day Won 


“Wal!"’ murmured Uncle Jason. 

“Massey brought ’em to the school this morning 
where the committee held a meeting. I hear the 
committee left the trays of coins in their room while 
they went downstairs to see something the matter 
with the heater. When they come up the trays had 
been skinned clean — <for a fac’ 1” exclaimed the ex- 
cited Marty. 

“What’s that got to do with Mr. Haley?” de- 
manded Uncle Jason, grimly. 

“Why — ^he’d been in the room. I believe he don’t 
deny he was there. Nobody else was in the build- 
in’ ’cept the janitor, and he was with Massey and 
the others in the basement. 

“Then coins jest disappeared — ^took wings and 
flewed away,” declared Marty with much earnest- 
ness. 

“What was they wuth?” asked his father, prac- 
tically. 

“Dunno. A lot of money. Some says two thou- 
sand and some says five thousand. Whichever it 
is, they’ll put him under big bail if they arrest 
him.” 

“Why, they wouldn’t dare !” gasped Mrs. Day. 

“Say ! Massey and them others has got to save 
their own hides, ain’t they?” demanded the sus- 
picious Marty. 

“Wal. ’Tain’t common sense that any of the 
School Committee should have stolen the coins,” 


Swept On by the Current 


69 


Unde Jason said slowly. ‘^Mr. Massey, and Cross 
Moore, and Mr. Middler ” 

“Mr. Middler warn’t there,’’ said Marty, quickly. 
“He’d gone to Middletown.” 

“Joe Pellet and Crawford there?” asked Uncle 
Jason. 

“All the committee but the parson,” his son ad- 
mitted. 

“And all good men,” Uncle Jason said re- 
flectively. “Schoolhouse locked ?” 

“So they say,” Marty declared. “That’s what 
set them on Nelson. Only him and the janitor carry 
keys to the building.” 

“Who’s the janitor?” asked Uncle Jason. 

“Benny Thread. You know, the little crooked- 
backed feller — lives on Paige Street. And, anyway, 
there wasn’t a chance for him to get at the coins. 
He was with the committee all the time they was 
out of the room.” 

“And are they sure Mr. Haley was in there?” 
asked Aunt ’Mira. 

“He admits it,” Marty said gloomily. “I don’t 
know what’s going to come of it all ” 

“Hush!” said Uncle Jason suddenly. “Shut that 
door.” 

But it was too late, Janice had heard all. She 
came down into the kitchen, pale-faced and with 
eyes that blazed with indignation. She had not re- 
moved her hat. 


70 


How Janice Day Won 


“Come, Uncle Jason,” she said, brokenly. “I 
want you to go downtown with me. If Nelson is 
in trouble we must help him.” 

“Drat that boy!” growled Uncle Jason, scowling 
at Marty. “He’s a reg’lar big mouth! He has 
to tell ev’rything he knows all over the shop.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


REAL TROUBLE 

It seemed to Janice Day as though the drift of 
trouble, which had set her way with the announce- 
ment by her father of his unfortunate situation 
among the Yaqui Indians, had now risen to an 
overwhelming height. 

’Rill’s secret misgivings regarding Hopewell 
Drugg, little Lottie’s peril of blindness, the general 
tendency of Polktown as a whole to suffer the bad 
effects of liquor selling at the tavern — all these 
things had added to Janice’s anxiety. 

Now, on the crest of the threatening wave, rode 
this happening to Nelson Haley, an account of 
which Marty had brought home. 

“Come, Uncle Jason,” she said again to Mr. 
Day. “You must come with me. If Nelson is ar- 
rested and taken before Justice Little, the justice 
will listen to you. You are a property owner. If 
they put Nelson under bail ” 

“Hold your bosses,” interrupted Uncle Jason, yet 
not unkindly. “Noah didn’t build the ark in a day. 
We’d best go slow about this.” 

“Slow !” repeated Janice. 

71 


72 


How Janice Day Won 


“I guess you wouldn’t talk about bein’ slow, 
Jason Day, if you was arrested,” Aunt ’Mira in- 
terjected. 

‘"Ma’s right,” said Marty. ‘‘Mebbe they’ll put 
him in the cell under the Town Hall ’fore you kin 
get downtown.” 

‘There ain’t no sech haste as all that,” stated 
Uncle Jason. “What’s the matter of you folks?” 

He spoke rather testily, and Janice looked at him 
in surprise. “Why, Uncle!” she cried, “what do 
you mean? It’s Nelson Haley who is in trouble.” 

“I mean to eat my dinner fust of all,” said her 
uncle firmly. “And so had you better, my gal. A 
man can’t be expected to go right away to court an’ 
put up every dollar he’s got in the world for bail, 
until he’s thought it over a little, and knows some- 
thing more about the trouble.” 

“Why, Jason!” exploded Aunt ’Mira. “Of 
course Mr. Haley is innocent and you will help 
him.” 

“Hi tunket. Dad !” cried Marty. “You ain’t goin* 
back on Nelson?” 

Janice was silent. Her uncle did not look at her, 
but drew his chair to the table. “I ain’t goin’ back 
on nobody,” he said steadily. “But I can’t do noth- 
ing to harm my own folks. If, -as you say, Marty, 
them coins is so vallible, his bail’ll be consider’ble — ■ 
for a fac\ If I put up this here property that we 


Real Trouble 


73 


got, an' — an' anything happens — not that I say any- 
thin' will happen — ^where’d we be?" 

‘/What ever do ye mean, Jason Day?" demanded 
his wife. “That Nelson Haley would run away?" 

“Ahem ! We don’t know how strongly the young 
man's been tempted," said Mr. Day doggedly. 

“Uncle !" cried Janice, aghast. 

“Dad!" exclaimed Marty. 

“Jase Day! For the land’s sake!" concluded 
Auna ’Mira. 

“Sit down and eat your dinner, Janice,” said 
Uncle Jason a second time, ignoring his wife and 
son. “Remember, I got a duty to perform to your 
father as well as to you. What would Broxton 
Day do in this case?" 

“I — don’t know. Uncle Jason," Janice said 
faintly. 

“Fust of all, he wouldn’t let you git mixed up in 
nothin’ that would make the neighbors talk about 
ye," Mr. Day said promptly. “Now, whether Nel- 
son Haley is innercent or guilty, there is bound 
ter be slathers of talk about this thing and about 
ev’rybody connected with it." 

“He is not guilty. Uncle," said Janice, quietly. 

“That’s my opinion, too," said Mr. Day, bluntly. 
“But I want the pertic’Iars, jest the same. I want 
to know all about it. Where there’s so much smoke 
there must be some fire." 

“Not alius. Dad," growled Marty, in disgust. 


74 How Janice Day Won 

“Smoke comes from an oak-ball, but there ain’t no 
fire.” 

“You air a smart young man,” returned his 
father, coolly. “You’ll grow up to be the town 
smartie, like Walky Dexter, I shouldn’t wonder. 
Nelson must ha’ done somethin’ to put himself in 
bad in this thing, and I want to know what it is 
he done.” 

“He went into the schoolhouse,” grumbled 
Marty. 

“Howsomever,” pursued Mr. Day, “if they shut 
Nelson Haley up on this charge and he ain’t guilty, 
we who know him best will git together and bail 
him out, if that seems best.” 

“'If that seems best!’” repeated Aunt ’Mira. 
“Jason Day! I’m glad the Lord didn’t make me 
such a moderate critter as you be.” 

“You’re a great friend of Nelse Haley — I don’t 
think!” muttered Marty. 

But Janice said nothing more. That Uncle Ja- 
son did not rush to Nelson’s relief as she would 
have done had it been in her power, was not so 
strange. Janice was a singularly just girl. 

The hurt was there, nevertheless. She could not 
help feeling keenly the fact that everybody in Polk- 
town did not respond at once to Nelson’s need. 

That he should be accused of stealing the collec- 
tion of coins was preposterous indeed. Yet Janice 
was sensible enough to know that there would be 


Real Trouble 


75 


those in the village only too ready and willing to 
believe ill of the young schoolmaster. 

Nelson Haley’s character was not wishy-washy. 
He had made everybody respect him. His position 
as principal of the school gave him almost as much 
importance in the community as the minister. But 
not all the Polktown folk loved Nelson Haley. He 
had made enemies as well as friends since coming 
to the lakeside town. 

There were those who would seize upon this in- 
cident, no matter how slightly the evidence might 
point to Nelson, and make “a mountain of a mole- 
hill.” Nelson was a poor young man. He had 
come to Polktown with college debts to pay off out 
of his salary. To those who were not intimately 
acquainted with the school-teacher’s character, it 
would not seem such an impossibility that he should 
yield to temptation where money was concerned. 

But to Janice the thought was not only abhorrent, 
it was ridiculous. She would have believed herself 
capable of stealing quite as soon as she would have 
believed the accusation against Nelson. 

Yet she could not blame Uncle Jason for his calm 
attitude in this event. It was his nature to be mod- 
erate and careful. She did not scold like Aunt 
’Mira, nor mutter and glare like Marty. She could 
not, however, eat any dinner. 

It was nerve-racking to sit there, playing with 
her fork, awaiting Uncle Jason’s pleasure. Janice’s 


76 


How Janice Day Won 


eyes were tearless. She had learned ere this, in the 
school of hard usage, to control her emotions. Not 
many girls of her age could have set off finally with 
Mr. Day for the town with so quiet a mien. For 
she insisted upon accompanying her uncle on this 
quest. She felt that she could not remain quietly 
at home and wait upon his leisurely report of the 
situation. 

First of all they learned that no attempt had been 
made as yet to curtail the young schoolmaster’s 
liberty; otherwise the situation was quite as bad as 
Marty had so eagerly reported. 

The collection of gold coins, valued at fifteen 
hundred dollars, had been left in the committee 
room next to the principal’s office in the new school 
building. It being Staurday, the outer doors of 
the building were locked — or supposedly so. 

Benny Thread, the janitor, was with the four 
committeemen in the basement for a little more 
than half an hour. During that half-hour Nelson 
Haley had entered the school building, using his 
pass key, had been to his office, and entered the 
committee room, and from thence departed, all 
while the committee was below stairs. 

He had been seen both going in and coming out 
by the neighbors. He carried his school bag in both 
instances. The collection of coins was of some 
weight; but Nelson could have carried that weight 
easily. 


Real Trouble 


77 


The committee, upon returning to the second 
floor and finding the trays empty, had at once sent 
for Nelson and questioned him. In their first ex- 
citement over the loss of the coins, they had been 
unwise enough to state the trouble and their sus- 
picions to more than one person. In an hour the 
story, with many additions, had spread over Polk- 
town. A fire before a high wind could have trav- 
eled no faster. 

Uncle Jason listened, digested, and made up his 
mind. Although a moderate man, he thought to 
some purpose. He was soon satisfied that the four 
committeemen, having got over their first fright, 
would do nothing rash. And Janice had much to 
thank her uncle for in this emergency; for he was 
outspoken, once having formed an opinion in the 
matter. 

Finding the four committeemen in the drugstore. 
Uncle Jason berated them soundly: 

‘T did think you four fellers was safe to be let 
toddle about alone. I swan I did ! But here ye ac’ 
jest like ye was nuthin’ but babies ! 

“Jest because ye acted silly and left that money 
open for the fust comer to pocket, ye hafter run 
about an' squeal, layin' it all to the fust person that 
come that way. If Mr. Middler or Elder Con- 
cannon had come inter that school buildin', I s'pose 
it’d ha’ been jest the same. You fellers would 


78 


How Janice Day Won 


aimed ter put it on them — one or t'other. I'm 
ashamed of ye." 

^Wal, Jase Day, you're so smart," drawled Cross 
Moore, “who d’ye reckon could ha’ took the coins?" 

“Most anybody could. Mr. Haley sartinly did 
not” Uncle Jason returned, briskly. 

“How d’ye know so much?" demanded Massey, 
the druggist. 

“ ’Cause I know him," rejoined Mr. Day, quite 
as promptly as before. 

“Aw — that’s only talk," said Joe Pellet, pulling 
his beard reflectively. “Mr. Haley’s a nice young 
man " 

“I’ve knowed him since ever he come inter this 
town," Mr. Day interrupted, with energy. “He’s 
too smart ter do sech a thing, even if he was so 
inclined. You fellers seem ter think he’s an idiot. 
What! steal them coins when he’s the only person 
'cept the janitor that’s knowed to have a key to 
the school building? 

“Huh!" pursued Uncle Jason, with vast disgust. 
“You fellers must have a high opinion of your 
own judgment, when you choosed Mr. Haley to 
teach this school. Did ye hire a nincompoop, I 
wanter know? Why! if he’d wanted ever so much 
ter steal them coins, he’d hafter_been a fule ter done 
it in this way." 

“There’s sense in what ye say, Jason," admitted 
Mr. Crawford. 


Real Trouble 


79 


''I sh^d hope so! But there ain’t sense in what 
you fellers have done — for a fac! Lettin’ sech a 
story as this git all over town. By jiminy! if I 
was Mr. Haley, I’d sue ye!” 

‘‘But what are we goin’ ter do, Jason?” demanded 
Cross Moore. “Sit here an’ twiddle our thumbs, 
and let that feller ’t owns the coins come down on 
us for their value?” 

“You’ll have to make good to him anyway,” said 
Mr. Day, bluntly. “You four air responserble.” 

“Hi tunket!” exploded Joe Pellet. “And let the 
thief git away with ’em?” 

“Better git a detecertif, an’ put him on the case,” 
said Mr. Day. “Of course, you air all satisfied that 
nobody could ha’ got into the schoolhouse but Mr. 
Haley?” 

“He an’ Benny is all that has keys,” said Massey. 

“Sure about this here janitor?” asked Uncle Ja- 
son, slowly. 

“Why, he was with us all the time,” said Craw- 
ford, in disgust. 

“And he’s a hardworkin’ little feller, too,” Mas- 
sey added. “Not a thing wrong with Benny but 
his back. That is crooked; but he’s as straight as 
a string.” 

“How’s his fambly?” asked Uncle Jason. 

“Ain’t got none — but a wife. A decent, hard- 
working woman,” proclaimed the druggist. “No 


80 How Janice Day Won 

children. Her brother boards with ’em. That’s 
all.” 

‘‘Well, sir!” said Uncle Jason, oracularly. 
“There air some things in this worl’ ye kin be sure 
of, besides death and taxes. There’s a few things 
connected with this case that ye kin pin down. F’r 
instance: The janitor didn’t do it. Nelse Haley 
didn’t do it. None o’ you four fellers done it.” 

“Say! you goin’ to drag us under suspicion, 
Jase?” drawled Cross Moore. 

“If you keep on sputterin’ about Nelse Haley — 
yes,” snapped Mr. Day, nodding vigorously. “How- 
somever, there’s still another party ter which the 
finger of suspicion p’ints.” 

“Who’s that?” was the chorus from the school 
committee. 

“A party often heard of in similar cases,” said 
Mr. Day, solemnly. “His name is Unknoimi! Yes, 
sir! Some party unknown entered that building 
while you fellers was down cellar, same as Nelson 
Haley did. This party. Unknown, stole the coins.” 

“Aw, shucks, Jase!” grunted Mr. Cross Moore. 
“You got to give us something more satisfactory 
than that if you want to shunt us off’n Nelson 
Haley’s trail,” and the other three members of the 
School Committee nodded. 


CHAPTER IX 


HOW NELSON TOOK IT 

Something more than mere curiosity drew 
Janice Day’s footsteps toward the new school build- 
ing. There were other people drawn in the same 
direction; but their interest was not like hers. 

Somehow, this newest bit of gossip in Polktown 
could be better discussed at the scene of the strange 
robbery itself. Icivilly Sprague and Mabel Woods 
walked there, arm in arm, passing Janice by with 
side glances and the tossing of heads. 

Icivilly and Mabel had attended Nelson’s school 
the first term after Miss ’Rill Scattergood gave up 
teaching; but finding the young schoolmaster im- 
pervious to their charms, they had declared them- 
selves graduated. 

They were not alone among the older girls who 
found Nelson provokingly adamant. He did not 
flirt. Of late it had become quite apparent that 
the schoolmaster had eyes only for Janice Day. 
Of course, that fact did not gain Nelson friends 
among girls like Icivilly and Mabel in this time of 
trial. 

Janice knew that they were whispering about her 
81 


82 


How Janice Day Won 


as she passed; but her real thought was given to 
more important matters. Uncle Jason had told 
her just how the affair of the robbery stood. There 
was a mystery — a deep, deep mystery about it. 

In the group about the front gate of the school 
premises were Jim Narnay and Trimmins, the 
woodsmen. Both had been drinking and were 
rather hilarious and talkative. At least, Trimmins 
was so. 

“Wish we'd knowed there was all that cash so 
free and open up here in the schoolhouse — ^heh, 
Jim?” Trimmins said, smiting his brother toper be- 
tween the shoulders. “We wouldn’t be diggin’ out 
for no swamp to haul logs.” 

“You’re mighty right, Trimmins! You’re mighty 
right!” agreed the drunken Narnay. “Gotter leave 
m’ fambly — ^hate ter do it!” and he became very 
lachrymose. “Ter’ble thing, Trimmins, f’r a man ter 
be sep’rated from his fambly jest so’s ter aim his 
livin’.” 

“Right ye air, old feller,” agreed the Southerner. 
“Hullo! here’s the buddy we’re waitin’ for. How 
long d’ye s’pose he’ll last, loggin?” 

Janice saw the ex-drug clerk. Jack Besmith, 
mounting the hill with a pack on his back. Rough 
as the two lumbermen were, Besmith looked the 
more dissolute character, despite his youth. 

The trio went away together, bound evidently for 


How Nelson Took It 


83 


one of Elder Concannon’s pieces of woodland, over 
the mountain. 

Benny Thread came out of the school building 
and locked the door importantly behind him. Sev- 
eral of the curious ones surrounded the little man 
and tried to get him into conversation upon the sub- 
ject of the robbery. 

“No, I can’t talk,” he said, shaking his head. “I 
can’t, really. The gentlemen of the School Com- 
mittee have forbidden me. Why — only think! It 
was more by good luck than good management 
that I wasn’t placed in a position where I could be 
suspected of the robbery. Lucky I was with the 
committeemen every moment of the time they were 
down cellar. No, I am not suspected, thanks be! 
But I must not talk — I must not talk.” 

It was evident that he wanted to talk and he 
could be over-urged to talk if the right pressure was 
brought to bear. Janice came away, leaving the 
eagerly curious pecking at him — the one white 
blackbird in the flock. 

Uncle Jason had given her some blunt words of 
encouragement. Janice felt that she must see Nel- 
son personally and cheer him up, if that were pos- 
sible. At least, she must tell him how she — and, 
indeed, all his friends — had every confidence in him. 

Some people whom she met as she went up High 
Street looked at her curiously. Janice held her head 
at a prouder angle and marched up the hill toward 


84 


How Janice Day Won 

Mrs. Beaseley’s. She ignored these curious glances. 

But there was no escaping Mrs. Scattergood. 
That lover of gossip must have been sitting behind 
her blind, peering down High Street, and waiting 
for Janice’s appearance. 

She hurried out of the house, beckoning to the 
girl eagerly. Janice could not very well refuse to 
approach, so she walked on up the hill beyond the 
side street on which Mrs. Beaseley’s cottage stood, 
and met the birdlike little woman at her gate. 

‘Tor the good land’s sake, Janice Day !” exploded 
Mrs. Scattergood. ‘T was wonderin’ if you’d never 
git up here. ■ Surely, you’ve heard abeout this dref- 
ful thing, ain’t you ?” 

Janice knew there was no use in evasion with 
Mrs. Scattergood. She boldly confessed. 

“Yes, Mrs. Scattergood, I have heard about it. 
And I think Mr. Cross Moore and those others 
ought to be ashamed of themselves — letting people 
think for a moment that Mr. Haley took those 
coins.” 

“Who did take ’em ?” asked the woman, eagerly. 
“Have they found out?” 

“Why, nobody but the person who really is the 
thief knows who stole the coins ; but of course every- 
body who knows Nelson at all, is sure that it was 
not Mr. Haley.” 

“Wal — they gotter lay it to somebody,” Mrs. 
Scattergood said, rather doubtfully. “That’s the 


How Nelson Took It 


85 


best them useless men could do,” she added, with 
that birdlike toss of the head that was so familiar 
to Janice. 

‘"If there’d been a woman around, they’d laid it 
on to her. Oh! I know ’em all — the hull kit an’ 
bilin’ of ’em.” 

Janice tried to smile at this; but the woman’s 
beadlike eyes seemed to be boring with their glance 
right through the girl and this made her extremely 
uncomfortable. 

“I expect you feel pretty bad, Janice Day,” went 
on Mrs. Scattergood. “But it’s alius the way. 
You’ll find as you grow older that there ain’t much 
in this world for females, young or old, but trou- 
ble.” 

“Why, Mrs.. Scattergood!” cried the girl, and this 
time she did call up a merry look. “What have you 
to trouble you? You have the nicest time of any 
person I know — unless it is Mrs. Marvin Petrie. 
No family to trouble you; enough to live on com- 
fortably; nothing to do but go visiting — or stay 
at home if you’d rather ” 

“Tut, tut, tut, child ! All is not gold that glitters,” 
was the quick reply. “I ain’t so happy as ye may 
think. I have my troubles. But, thanks be! they 
ain’t abeout men. But you’ve begun yours, I kin 
see.” 

“Yes, I am troubled because Mr. Haley is falsely 
accused,” admitted Janice, stoutly. 


86 


How Janice Day Won 


''Wal — yes. I expect you air. And if it ain’t 
no worse than you believe — Wall I said you was 
a new-fashioned gal when I fust set eyes on you that 
day cornin’ up from the Landing in the old Con- 
stance Colfax; and you be.” 

“How am I different from other girls?” asked 
Janice, curiously. 

“Wal! Most gals would wait till they was sure 
the young man wasn’t goin’ to be arrested before 
they ran right off to see him. But mebbe it’s be- 
cause you ain’t got your own mother and father to 
tell ye diff’rent.” 

Janice flushed deeply at this and her eyes spar- 
kled. 

“I am sure Aunt ’Mira and Uncle Jason would 
have told me not to call on Nelson if they did not 
believe just as I do — that he is guiltless and that 
all his friends should show him at once that they 
believe in him.” 

“Hoity-toity ! Mebbe so,” said the woman, tartly. 
“Them Days never did have right good sense — ^yer 
uncle an’ aunt, 1 mean. When / was a gal we 
wouldn’t have been allowed to have so much free- 
dom where the young fellers was consarned.” 

Janice was quite used to Mrs. Scattergood’s sharp 
tongue ; but it was hard to bear her strictures on this 
occasion. 

“I hope it is not wrong for me to show my friend 


How Nelson Took It 


87 


that I trust and believe in him/’ she said firmly, and 
nodding good-bye, turned abruptly away. 

Of herself, or of what the neighbors thought of 
her conduct, Janice Day thought but little. She 
went on to Mrs. Beaseley’s cottage, solely anxious 
on Nelson’s account. 

She found the widow in tears, for selfishly im- 
mured as Mrs. Beaseley was in her ten-year-old 
grief over the loss of her ‘"sainted Charles,” she 
was a dear, soft-hearted woman and had come to 
look upon Nelson Haley almost as her son. 

“Oh, Janice Day! what ever are we going to do 
for him?” was her greeting, the moment the girl 
entered the kitchen. “If my poor, dear Charles 
were alive I know he would be furiously angry with 
Mr. Cross Moore and those other men. Oh! I 
cannot bear to think of how angry he would be, for 
Charles had a very stern temper. 

“And Mr. Haley is such a pleasant young man. 
As I tell ’em all, a nicer and quieter person never 
lived in any lone female’s house. And to think of 
their saying such dreadful things about him! I 
am sure I never thought of locking anything away 
from Mr. Haley in this house — and there’s the 
’leven sterling silver teaspoons that belonged to 
poor, dear Charles’ mother, and the gold-lined 
sugar-basin that was my Aunt Abby’s, and the 
sugar tongs — although they’re bent some. 

“Why! Mr. Haley is jest one of the nicest young 


88 


How Janice Day Won 


gentlemen that ever was. And here he comes home, 
pale as death, and won’t eat no dinner. Janice, 
think of it! I alius have said, and I stick to it, that 
if one can eat they’ll be all right. My sainted 
Charles,” she added, stating for the thousandth time 
an uncontrovertible fact, '‘would be alive to this 
day if he had continued to eat his victuals!” 

“I’d like to speak to Mr. Haley,” Janice said, 
finally “getting a word in edgewise.” 

“Of course. Maybe he’ll let you in,” said the 
widow. “He won’t me, but I think he favors you, 
Janice,” she added innocently, shaking her head 
with a continued mournful air. “He come right in 
and said: ‘Mother Beaseley, I don’t believe I can 
eat any dinner to-day,’ and then shut and locked 
his door. I didn’t know what had happened till 
’Rene Hopper, she that works for Mrs. Cross 
Moore, run in to borry my heavy flat-iron, an’ she 
tol me about the stolen money. Ain’t it awful?'' 

“I — I hope Nelson will let me speak to him, Mrs. 
Beaseley,” stammered Janice, finding it very diffi- 
cult now to keep her tears back. 

“You go right along the hall and knock at his 
door,” whispered Mrs. Beaseley, hoarsely. “An’ 
you tell him I’ve got his dinner down on the stove- 
hearth, ’twixt plates, a-keepin’ it hot for him.” 

Janice did as she was bidden- as far as knocking 
at the door of the front room was concerned. There 


How Nelson Took It 


89 


was no answer at first — not a sound from within. 
She rapped a second time. 

‘‘I am sorry, Mrs. Beaseley; I could not possibly 
eat any dinner to-day,’’ Nelson’s voice finally re- 
plied. 

There was no tremor in the tone of it. Janice 
knew just how proud the young man was, and no 
matter how bitterly he was hurt by this trouble that 
had fallen upon him, he would not easily reveal his 
feelings. 

She put her lips close to the crack of the door. 
“Nelson !” she whispered. “Nelson !” a little louder. 

She heard him spring to his feet and overturn 
the chair in which he had been sitting. 

“Nelson! it’s only me,” Janice quavered, the 
pulse beating painfully in her throat. “Let me in 
—do!” 

He came across the room slowly. She heard him 
fumble at the key and knob. Then the door opened. 

“Oh, Nelson!” she repeated, when she saw him 
in the darkened parlor. 

The pallor of his face went to her heart. His 
hair was disheveled; his eyes red from weeping. 
After all, he was just a big boy ‘in trouble, and with 
no mother to comfort him. 

All the maternal instincts of Janice Day’s nature 
went out to the young fellow. “Nelson! Nelson!” 
she cried, under her breath. “You poor, poor boy! 
I’m so sorry for you.” 


90 


How Janice Day Won 


'‘Janice — you ’’ He stammered, and could 

not finish the phrase. 

She cried, emphatically: "Of course I believe 
in you. Nelson. We all do! You must not take it 
so to heart. You will not bear it all alone. Nelson. 
Every friend you have in Polktown will help you.’’ 

She had come close to him, her hands fluttering 
upon his breast and her eyes, sparkling with tear- 
drops, raised to his face. 

"Oh, Janice!” he groaned, and swept her into his 
arms. 



The pallor of his face went to her heart. 


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CHAPTER X 


HOW POLKTOWN TOOK IT 

That was a very serious Saturday night at the 
old Day house, as well as at the Beaseley cottage. 
Aunt ’Mira had whispered to Janice before the girl 
had set forth with her uncle in the afternoon : 

“Bring him home to supper with ye, child — the 
poor young man ! We got to cheer him up, betwixt 
us. Pm goin’ to have raised biscuits and honey. He 
does dote on light bread.” 

But Nelson would not come. Janice had suc- 
ceeded in encouraging him to a degree; but the 
young schoolmaster was too seriously wounded, 
both in his self-respect and at heart, to wish to 
mingle on this evening with any of his fellow-towns- 
men — even those who were his declared friends 
and supporters. 

“Don’t look for me at church to-morrow, either, 
Janice,” the young man said. “It may seem cow- 
ardly ; but I cannot face all these people and ignore 
this disgrace.” 

“It is not disgrace, Nelson!” Janice cried hotly. 

“It is, my dear girl. One does not have to be 
guilty to be disgraced by such an accusation. I 
91 


92 


How Janice Day Won 


may be a coward; I don’t know. At least, I feel 
it too keenly to march into church to-morrow and 
know that everybody is whispering about me. Why, 
Janice, I might break down and make a complete 
fool of myself.” 

'Dh, no, Nelson!” 

'‘I might. Even the children will know all about 
it and will stare at me. I have to face them on 
Monday morning, and by that time I may have re- 
covered sufficient self-possession to ignore their 
glances and whispers.” 

And with that decision Janice was obliged to 
leave him. 

‘The poor, foolish boy 1” Aunt ’Mira said. “Don’t 
he know we all air sufferin’ with him?” 

But Uncle Jason seemed better to appreciate the 
schoolmaster’s attitude. 

“I don’t blame him none. He’s jest like a dog 
with a hurt paw — wants ter crawl inter his kennel 
and lick his wounds. It’s a tough propersition, for 
a fac’.” 

“He needn’t be afraid that the fellers will guy 
him,” growled Marty. “If they do. I’ll lick ’em!” 

“Oh, Marty! All of them?” cried Janice, laugh- 
ing at his vehemence, yet tearful, too. 

“Well — all I can,'' declared her cousin. “And 
there ain’t many I can’t, you bet.” 

“If you was as fond of work as ye be of fightin’, 


How Polktown Took It 


93 


Marty,” returned Mr. Day, drily, ‘‘you sartin sureM 
be a wonderful feller.” 

“Ya-as,” drawled his son but in a very low tone, 
“maw says Fm growin’ moreen more like you, every 
day.” 

“Marty,” Janice put in quickly, before the bicker- 
ing could go any further, “did you see little Lottie? 
It was so late when I came out of Mrs. Beaseley^s, 
I ran right home.” 

“I seed her,” her cousin said gloomily. 

“How air her poor eyes?” asked Aunt 'Mira. 

“They're not poor eyes. They're as good as any- 
body’s eyes,” Marty cried, with exasperation. 

“Wal — they say she’s goin' blind again,” said 
tactless Aunt 'Mira. 

“I say she ain’t! She ain't!” ejaculated Marty. 
“All foolishness. I don't believe a thing them 
doctors say. She's got just as nice eyes as any- 
body 'd want.” 

“That is true, Marty,” Janice said soothingly; 
but she sighed. 

The door was open, for the evening was mild. 
On the damp Spring breeze the sound of a husky 
voice was wafted up the street and into the old Day 
house. 

“Hello !” grunted Uncle Jason, “who's this sing- 
in' bird a-comin' up the hill? 'Tain’t never Walky 
a-singin' like that, is it?” 


94 How Janice Day Won 

Walky; but it ain’t him singin’,” chuckled 

Marty. 

“Huh?” queried Uncle Jason. 

“It’s Lem Parraday’s whiskey that’s doin’ the 
singin’,” explained the boy. “Hi tunket! Listen 
to that ditty, will ye?” 

“ ‘I wish’t I was a rock 
A-settin’ on a hill, 

A-doin’ nothin’ all day long 
But jest a-settin’ still,’ ” 

roared Walky, who was letting the patient Josephus 
take his own gait up Hillside Avenue. 

“For the Good Land o’ Goshen!” cried Aunt 
’Mira. “What’s the matter o’ that feller? Has he 
taken leave of his senses, a-makin’ of the night 
higeous in that-a-way? Who ever told Walky 
Dexter ’t he could sing?” 

“It’s what he’s been drinking that’s doing the 
singing, I tell ye,” said her son. 

“Poor Walky!” sighed Janice. 

The expressman’s complaint of his hard lot con- 
tinued to rise in song: 

“ T wouldn’t eat, I wouldn’t sleep, 

I wouldn’t even wash; 

I’d jest set still a thousand years. 

And rest myself, b’gosh!’ 


How Polktown Took It 


95 


‘‘Whoa, Josephus 

He had pulled the willing Josephus (willing at 
all times to stop) into the open gateway of the old 
Day place. Marty went out on the porch to hail 
him. 


“ ‘I wish I was a bump 
A-settin' on a log, 

Baitin’ m’ hook with a flannel shirt 
For to ketch a frog! 

“And when I’d ketched m’ frog. 

I’d rescue of m’ bait — 

An’ what a mess of frog’s hind laigs 
I wouldn't have ter ate !’ ” 

“Come on in, Walky, and rest your voice.” 

“You be gittin’ to be a smart young chap, Marty,” 
proclaimed Walky, coming slowly up the steps with 
a package for Mrs. Day and his book to be signed. 

The odor of spirits was wafted before him. 
Walky’s face was as round and red as an August 
full moon. 

“How-do, Janice,” he said. “What d’yeou think 
of them fule committeemen startin’ this yarn abeout 
Nelson Haley?” 

“What do folks say about it, Walky?” cut in Mr. 
Day, to save his niece the trouble of answering. 

“Jest erbeout what you’d think they would,” the 


96 


How Janice Day Won 


philosophical expressman said, shaking his head. 
‘‘Them that^s got venom under their tongues, must 
spit it aout if they open their lips at all. Polktown’s 
jest erbeout divided — the gossips in one camp and 
the kindly talkin’ people in t’other. One crowd 
says Mr. Haley would steal candy from a blind 
baby, an’ t’other says his overcoat fits him so tight 
across’t the shoulders ’cause his wings is sproutin’. 
Haw! haw! haw!” 

“And what d’ ye say, Mr. Dexter?” asked Aunt 
’Mira, bluntly. 

The expressman puckered his lips into a curious 
expression. “I tell ye what,” he said. “Knowin’ 
Mr. Haley as I do, I’m right sure he’s innercent as 
the babe unborn. But, jefers-pelters! who could 
ha’ done it?” 

“Why, Walky!” gasped Janice. 

“I know. It sounds awful, don’t it?” said the 
expressman. “I don’t whisper a word of this to 
other folks. But considerin’ that the schoolhouse 
doors was locked and Mr. Haley had the only other 
key besides the janitor, who air Massey and them 
others goin’ to blame for the robbery?” 

“They air detarmined to save their own hides if 
possible,” Uncle Jason grumbled. 

“Natcherly — ^natcherly,” returned Walky. “We 
know well enough none o’ them four men of the 
School Committee took the coins, nor Benny 
Thread, neither. They kin all swear alibi for each 


How Polktown Took It 


97 


other and sartain sure they didn’t all conspire ter 
steal the money and split it up ’twixt ’em. Haw! 
haw! haw! ’Twouldn’t hardly been wuth dividin’ 
into five parts,” he added, his red face all of a grin. 

“That sounds horrid, Mr. Dexter,” said Aunt 
’Mira. 

“Wal, it’s practical sense,” the expressman said, 
wagging his head. “It’s a problem for one o’ 
them smart detecatifs ye read abeout in the maga- 
zines — one o’ them like they have in stories. I read 
abeout one of ’em in a story. Yeou leave him smell 
the puffumery on a gal’s handkerchief and he’ll tell 
right away whether she was a blonde or a brunette, 
an’ what size glove she wore ! Haw ! haw ! haw ! 

“This ain’t no laughing matter, Walky,” Mr. Day 
said, with a side glance at Janice. 

“Better laff than cry,” declared Walky. “How- 
somever, folks seed Mr. Haley go into the school- 
house and come out ag’in ” 

“He told the committee he had been there,” 
Janice interrupted. 

“That’s right, too. Mebbe not so many folks 
would ha’ knowed they’d seen him there if he hadn’t 
up and said so. Proberbly there was ha’f a dozen 
other folks hangin’ abeout the schoolhouse, too, 
at jest the time the coin collection was stole; but 
they ain’t remembered ’cause they didn’t up and tell 
on themselves.” 


98 How Janice Day Won 

“Oh, Walky gasped the girl, startled by the sug- 
gestion. 

“Wal,” drawled the expressman, in continuation, 
“that ain’t no good to us, for nobody had a key to 
the door but him and Benny Thread.” 

“I wonder ” murmured Janice; but said no 

more. 

“It’s a scanderlous thing,” Walky pursued, re- 
ceiving his book back and preparing to join Jose- 
phus at the gate. “Coin’ ter split things wide open 
in Polktown, I reckon. ’Twill be wuss’n a church 
row ’fore it finishes. Already there’s them that 
says we’d oughter have another teacher in Mr. 
Haley’s place.” 

“Oh, my!” cried Aunt ’Mira. 

“Ain’t willin’ ter give the young feller a chance’t 
at all, heh ?” said Mr. Day, puffing hard at his pipe. 
“Wall ! we’ll see abeout that” 

“We’d never have a better teacher, I tell ’em,” 
Walky flung back over his shoulder. “But Mr. 
Haley’s drawin’ a good salary and there’s them that 
think it oughter go ter somebody that belongs here 
in Polktown, not to an outsider like him.” 

“Hi tunket!” cried Marty, after Walky had gone. 
“There ye have it. Miss Pearly Breeze, that used 
ter substi-f(?(?t for ’Rill Scattergood, has wanted the 
school ever since Mr. Haley come. She’d do fine 
tryin’ to be principal of a graded school — I don’t 
think!” 


How Polktown Took It 


99 


‘^Oh, don’t talk so, I beg of you,” Janice said. 
‘‘Of course Nelson won’t lose his school. If he 
did, under these circumstances, he could never go 
to Millhampton College to teach. Why! perhaps 
his career as a teacher would be irrevocably ruined.” 

“Now, don’t ye take on so, Janice,” cried Aunt 
’Mira, with her arm about the girl. “It won’t be 
like that. It cant be so bad — can it, Jason?” 

“We mustn’t let it go that fur,” declared her 
spouse, fully aroused now. “Consarn Walky Dex- 
ter, anyway I I guess, as Marty says, what he puts 
in his mouth talks as well as sings for him. 

“I snum!” added the farmer, shaking his head. 
“I dunno which is the biggest nuisance, an ill- 
natered gossip or a good-natered one. Walky 
claims ter feel friendly to Mr. Haley, and then 
comes here with all the unfriendly gossip he kin 
fetch. Huh! I ain’t got a mite o’ use fer sech 
folks.” 

Uncle Jason was up, pacing the kitchen back and 
forth in his stocking feet. He was much stirred 
over Janice’s grief. Aunt ’Mira was in tears, too. 
Marty went out on the porch, ostensibly for a pail 
of fresh water, but really to cover his emotion. 

None of them could comfortably bear the sight 
of Janice’s tears. As Marty started the pump a 
boy ran into the yard and up the steps. 

“Hullo, Jimmy Gallagher, what you want?” de- 
manded Marty. 


100 How Janice Day Won 

‘‘rm after Janice Day. Got a note for her/' said 
the urchin. 

‘‘Hey, Janice!" called her cousin; but the young 
girl was already out on the porch. 

“What is it, Jimmy? Has Nelson " 

“Here's a note from Miz' Drugg. Said for me 
to give it to ye," said the boy, as he clattered down 
the steps again. 


CHAPTER XI 


‘^MEN MUST WORK WHILE WOMEN MUST WEEp” 

Janice brought the letter indoors to read hy the 
light of the kitchen lamp. Her heart fluttered, for 
she feared that it was something about Nelson. 
The Drugg domicile was almost across the street 
from the Beaseley cottage and the girl did not know 
but that ’Rill had been delegated to tell her some- 
thing of moment about the young schoolmaster. 

Marty, too, was eagerly curious. ‘‘Hey, Janice! 
what’s the matter?” he whispered, at her shoulder. 

‘‘Mr. Drugg has to be away this evening and she 
is afraid to stay in the house and store alone. She 
wants me to come over and spend the night with 
her. May I, Auntie?” 

“Of course, child — go if you like,” Aunt ’Mira 
said briskly. “You’ve been before.” 

Twice Mr. Drugg had been away buying goods 
and Janice had spent the night with ’Rill and little 
Lottie. 

“Though what protection I could be to them if a 
burglar broke in. I’m sure I don’t know,” Janice 
had said, laughingly, on a former occasion. 

She went upstairs to pack her handbag rather 
101 


102 


How Janice Day Won 

gravely. She was glad to go to the Drugg place 
to remain through the night. She would be near 
Nelson Haley ! Somehow, she felt that being across 
the street from the schoolmaster would be a com- 
fort. 

When she came downstairs Marty had his hat and 
coat on. *Tl\ go across town with ye — and carry 
the bag,” he proposed. “Going to the reading room, 
anyway.” 

“That’s nice of you, Marty,” she said, trying to 
speak in her usual cheery manner. 

Janice was rather glad it was a moonless evening 
as she walked side by side with her cousin down 
Hillside Avenue. It was one of the first warm 
evenings of the Spring and the neighbors were on 
their porches, or gossiping at the gates and 
boundary fences. 

What about? Ah ! too well did Janice Day know 
the general subject of conversation this night in 
Polktown. 

“Come on, Janice,” grumbled Marty. “Don’t 
let any of those old cats stop you. They’ve all got 
their claws sharpened up.” 

“Hush, Marty!” she begged, yet feeling a warm 
thrill at her heart because of the boy’s loyalty. 

“There’s that old Benny Thread I” exploded 
Marty, as they came out on the High Street. “Oh ! 
he’s as important now as a Billy-goat on an ash- 
heap. You’d think, to hear him, that he’d stole 


“Men Must Work, Women Weep” 103 


the coins himself — only he didn’t have no chance’t. 
He and Jack Besmith wouldn’t ha’ done a thing to 
that bunch of money — no, indeed! — if they’d got 
hold of it.” 

“Why, Marty!” put in Janice; “you shouldn’t say 
that.” Then, with sudden curiosity, she added: 
“What has that drug clerk got to do with the janitor 
of the school building?” 

“He’s Benny’s brother-in-law. But Jack’s left 
town, I hear.” 

“He’s gone with Trimmins and Narnay into the 
woods,” Janice said thoughtfully. 

“So he's out of it,” grumbled Marty. “Jack 
went up to Massey’s the other night to try to get his 
old job back, and Massey turned him out of the 
store. Told him his breath smothered the smell of 
iodoform in the back shop,” and Marty giggled. 
“That’s how Jack come to get a pint and wander 
up into our sheepfold to sleep it off.” 

“Oh, dear, Marty,” sighed Janice, “this drinking 
in Polktown is getting to be a dreadful thing. See 
how Walky Dexter was to-night.” 

“Yep.” 

“Everything that’s gone wrong lately is the fault 
of Lem Parraday’s bar.” 

“Huh! I wonder?” questioned Marty. “Guess 
Nelse Haley won’t lay his trouble to liquor drink- 
ing.” 


'No ? I wonder- 


104 How Janice Day Won 

‘‘Here’s the library building, Janice,” interrupted 
the boy. “Want me to go any further with you?” 

“No, dear,” she said, taking the bag from him. 
“Tell Aunt ’Mira I’ll be home in the morning in 
time enough to dress for church.” 

“Aw-right.” 

“And, Marty!” 

“Yep?” returned he, turning back. 

“I see there’s a light in the basement of the 
library building. What’s going on?” 

“We fellers are holding a meeting,” said Marty, 
importantly. “I called it this afternoon. I don’t 
mind telling you, Janice, that we’re going to pass 
resolutions backing up Mr. Haley — pass him a vote 
of confidence. That’s what they do in lodges and 
other societies. And if any of the fellers renege to- 
night on this. I’ll — I’ll — Well, I’ll show ’em some- 
thin’!” finished Marty, very red in the face and 
threatening as he dived down the basement steps. 

“Oh, well,” thought Janice, encouraged after all. 
“Nelson has some loyal friends.” 

She came to the store on the side street without 
further incident. She looked across timidly at Nel- 
son’s windows. A lamp burned dimly there, so she 
knew he was at home. 

Indeed, where would he go — ^to whom turn in his 
trouble? Aside from an old maiden aunt who had 
lent him enough of her savings to enable him to 
finish his college course. Nelson had no relatives 


‘‘Men Must Work, Women Weep” 105 


alive. He had no close friend, either young or old, 
but herself, Janice knew. 

‘‘Oh, if daddy were only home from Mexico!’’ 
was her unspoken thought, as she lifted the latch of 
the store door. 

There were no customers at this hour ; but it was 
Hopewell Drugg’s custom to keep the store open 
until nine o’clock every evening, and Saturday night 
until a much later hour. Every neighborhood store 
must do this to keep trade. 

“I’m so glad to see you, Janice,” ’Rill proclaimed, 
without coming from behind the counter. “You’ll 
stay ?” 

“Surely. Don’t you see my bag?” returned 
Janice gaily. “Is Mr. Drugg going to be away all 
night?” 

“He — he could not be sure. It’s another dance,” 
’Rill said, rather apologetically. “He feels he must 
play when he can. Every five dollars counts, you 
know, and Hopewell is sure that Lottie will have 
to go back to the school.” 

“Where is the dance?” asked Janice gravely. 
“Down at the Inn?” 

“Yes,” replied the wife, quite as seriously, and 
dropping her gaze. 

“Oh I I hear my Janice ! I hear my Janice Day !” 
cried Lottie’s sweet, shrill voice from the rear apart- 
ment and she came running out into the store to 
meet the visitor. 


106 


How Janice Day Won 


‘'Have a care! have a care, dear!” warned ’Rill. 
“Look where you run.” 

Janice, seeing more clearly from where she stood 
in front of the counter, was aware that the child 
ran toward her with her hands outstretched, and 
with her eyes tightly closed — just as she used to 
do before her eyes were treated and she Had been to 
the famous Boston physician. 

“Oh, Lottie dear !” she exclaimed, taking the lit- 
tle one into her arms. “You will run into some- 
thing. You will hurt yourself. Why don’t you look 
where you are going?” 

“I do look,” Lottie responded pouting. Then she 
wriggled all her ten fingers before Janice’s face. 
“Don’t you see my lookers? I can see — oh! so 
nicely! — with my fingers. You know I always 
could, Janice Day.” 

’Rill shook her head and sighed. It was plain 
the bride was a very lenient stepmother indeed — 
perhaps too lenient. She loved Hopewell Drugg’s 
child so dearly that she could not bear to correct 
her. Lottie had always had her own way with her 
father; and matters had not changed, Janice could 
see. 

“Mamma ’Rill,” Lottie coaxed, patting her step- 
mother’s pink cheek, “you’ll let me sit up longer, 
’cause Janice is here — won’t you?” 

Of course ’Rill could not refuse her. So the child 
sat there, blinking at the store lights like a little owl. 


^^Men Must Work, Women Weep” 107 


until finally she sank down in the old cushioned 
armchair behind the stove and fell fast asleep. Oc- 
casionally customers came in; but between whiles 
Janice and the storekeeper’s wife could talk. 

The racking ‘^clump, clump, clump,” of a big- 
footed farm horse sounded without and a woman’s 
nasal voice called a sharp : 

‘‘Whoa! Whoa, there! Now, Emmy, you git 
aout and hitch him to that there post. Ain’t no ring 
to it? Wal! I don’t see what Hope Drugg’s think- 
in’ of — ^havin’ no rings to his hitchin’ posts. He 
ain’t had none to that one long’s I kin remember.” 

“Here comes Mrs. Si Leggett,” said ’Rill to 
Janice. “She’s a particular woman and I am sorry 
Hopewell isn’t here himself. Usually she comes 
in the afternoon. She is late with her Saturday’s 
shopping this time.” 

“Take this basket of eggs — easy, now, Emmy!” 
shrilled the woman’s voice. “Handle ’em careful — 
handle ’em like they was eggs !” 

A heavy step, and a lighter step, on the porch, 
and then the store door opened. The woman was 
tall and raw-boned. She wore a sunbonnet of fine 
green and white stripes. Emmy was a lanky child 
of fourteen or so, with slack, flaxen hair and a 
perfectly colorless face. 

“Haow-do, Miz’ Drugg,” said the newcomer, 
putting a large basket of eggs carefully on the 


108 How Janice Day Won 

counter. ‘What’s Hopewell givin’ for eggs to- 
day?” 

“Just what everybody else is, Mrs. Leggett. 
Twenty-two cents. That’s the market price.” 

“Wal — seems ter me I was bearin’ that Mr. 
. Sprague daowntown was a-givin’ twenty-three,” 
said the customer slowly. 

“Perhaps he is, Mrs. Leggett. But Mr. Drugg 
cannot afford to give even a penny above the market 
price. Of course, either cash or trade — just as 
you please.” 

“Wal, I want some things an’ I wasn’t kalker- 
latin’ to go ’way daowntown ter-night — it’s so late,” 
said Mrs. Leggett. 

’Rill smiled and waited. 

“Twenty-two’s the best you kin do?” queried the 
lanky woman querulously. 

“That is the market price.” 

“Wal! lemme see some cheap gingham. It don’t 
matter abeout the pattern. It’s only for Emmy 
here, and it don’t matter what ’tis that covers her 
bones’ long’s it does cover ’em. Will this fade?” 

“I don’t think so,” Mrs. Drugg said, opening the 
bolt of goods so that the customer could get at it 
better. 

Janice watched, much amused. The woman 
pulled at the piece one way, and then another, wet- 
ting it meantime and rubbing it with her fingers 


^‘Men Must Work, Women Weep” 109 

to ascertain if the colors were fast. She was ap- 
parently unable to satisfy herself regarding it. 

Finally she produced a small pair of scissors and 
snipped off a tiny piece and handed it to Emmy. 
“Here, Emmy,” she said, “you spit aout that there 
gum an' chew on this here awhile ter see if it fades 
any.” 

Janice dodged behind the post to hide the ex- 
pression of amusement that she could not control. 
She wondered how 'Rill could remain so placid and 
unruffled. 

Emmy took the piece of goods, clapped it into 
her mouth with the most serious expression imagin- 
able, and went to work. Her mother said : 

“Ye might's well count the eggs, Miz' Drugg. I 
make 'em eight dozen and ten. I waited late for 
the rest of the critters ter lay; but they done fooled 
me ter-day — for a fac' !” 

Emmy having chewed on the gingham to her 
mother's complete satisfaction, Mrs. Leggett fin- 
ished making her purchases and they departed. 
Then 'Rill and her guest could talk again. Natur- 
ally the conversation almost at the beginning turned 
upon Nelson Haley's trouble. 

“It is terrible!” 'Rill said. “Mr. Moore and 
those others never could have thought what they 
were doing when they accused Mr. Haley of steal- 
ing.” 

“They were afraid that they would have to make 


110 


How Janice Day Won 


good for the coins, and felt that they must blame 
somebody,’' Janice replied with a sigh. 

^Df course, Hopewell went right over to tell the 
schoolmaster what he thought about it as soon as 
the story reached us. Hopewell thinks highly of the 
young man, you know.” 

*‘Until this thing happened, I thought almost 
everybody thought highly of him/’ said Janice, with 
a sob. 

‘‘Oh, my dear!” cried ’Rill, tearful herself, ‘'there 
is such gossip in Polktown. So many people are 
ready to make ill-natured and untruthful remarks 
about one ” 

Janice knew to what secret trouble the store- 
keeper’s wife referred. “I know!” she exclaimed, 
wiping away her own tears. “They have talked 
horridly about Mr. Drugg.” 

“It is untruthful ! It is unfair !” exclaimed Hope- 
well Drugg’s wife, her cheeks and eyes suddenly 
ablaze with indignation. To tell the truth, she was 
like an angry kitten, and had the matter not been 
so serious, Janice must have laughed at her. 

“They have told all over town that Hopewell 
came home intoxicated from that last dance,” con- 
tinued the wife. “But it is a story — a wicked, 
wicked story!” 

Janice was silent. She remembered what she 
and Marty and Mrs. Scattergood had seen on the 
evening in question — ^how Hopewell Drugg had. 


^‘Men Must Work, Women Weep” 111 


looked as he staggered past the street lamp on the 
corner on his way home with the fiddle under his 
arm. 

She looked away from ’Rill and waited. Janice 
feared that the poor little bride would discover the 
expression of her doubt in her eyes. 


CHAPTER XII 


AN UNEXPECTED EMERGENCY 

’Rill seemed to understand what was in Janice’s 
mind and heart. She kept on with strained 
vehemence : 

‘T know what they all say! And my mother is 
as bad as any of them. They say Hopewell was 
intoxicated. He was sick, and the bartender mixed 
him something to settle his stomach. I think maybe 
he put some liquor in it unbeknown to Hopewell. 
Or something! 

‘The poor, dear man was ill all night, Janice, and 
he never did remember how he got home from the 
dance. Whatever he drank seemed to befuddle his 
brain just as soon as he came out into the night 
air. That should prove that he’s not a drinking 
man.” 

“I — I am sorry for you, dear,” Janice said softly. 
“And I am sorry anybody saw Mr. Drugg that 
evening on his way home.” 

“Oh, I know you saw him, Janice — and Marty 
Day and my mother. Mother can be as mean as 
mean can be! She has never liked Hopewell, as 
you know.” 


112 


An Unexpected Emergency 113 

“Yes, I know,’’ admitted Janice. 

“She keeps throwing such things up to me. And 
her tongue is never still. It is true Hopewell’s 
father was a drinking man.” 

“Indeed?” said Janice, curiously. 

“Yes,” sighed ’Rill Drugg. “He was rather 
shiftless. Perhaps it is the nature of artists so to 
be,” she added reflectively. “For he was really a 
fine musician. Had Hopewell had a chance he 
might have been his equal. I often think so,” said 
the storekeeper’s bride proudly. 

“I know that the elder Mr. Drugg taught the 
violin.” 

“Yes. And he used to travel about over the coun- 
try, giving lessons and playing in orchestras. That 
used to make Mrs. Drugg awfully angry. She 
wanted him to be a storekeeper. She made Hope- 
well be one. How she ever came to marry such 
a man as Hopewell’s father, I do not see.” 

“She must have loved him,” said Janice wist- 
fully. 

“Of course!” cried the bride, quite as innocently. 
“She couldn’t have married him otherwise.” 

“And was Hopewell their only child?” 

“Yes. He seldom saw his father, but he fairly 
worshiped him. His father was a handsome man 
' — ^and he used to play his violin for Hopewell. It 
was this very instrument my husband prizes so 


114 


How Janice Day Won 


greatly now. When Mr. Drugg died the violin was 
hid away for years in the garret. 

You’ve heard how Hopewell found it, and 
strung it himself, and used to play on it slyly, and so 
taught himself to be a fiddler, before his mother 
had any idea he knew one note from another. She 
was extremely deaf at the last and could not hear 
him playing at odd times, up in the attic.” 

'‘My!” said Janice, “he must have really loved 
music.” 

“It was his only comfort,” said the wife softly. 
“When he was twenty-one what little property his 
father had left came to him. But his mother did 
not put the violin into the inventory; so Hopewell 
said: ‘Give me the fiddle and you can have the 
rest.’ ” 

“He loved it so!” murmured Janice apprecia- 
tively. 

“Yes. I guess that was almost the only time in 
his life that Hopewell really asserted himself. With 
his mother, at least. She was a very stubborn 
woman, and very stern; more so than my own 
mother. But Mrs. Drugg had to give in to him 
about the violin, for she needed Hopewell to run 
the store for her. They had little other means. 

“But she made him marry ’Cinda Stone,” added 
’Rill. “Poor ’Cinda! she was never happy. Not 
that Hopewell did not treat her well. You know, 


An Unexpected Emergency 115 

Janice, he is the sweetest-tempered man that ever 
lived. 

“And that is what hurts me more than anything 
else,’’ sobbed the bride, dabbling her eyes with her 
handkerchief. “When they say Hopewell gets in- 
toxicated, and is cruel to me and to Lottie, it seems 
as though — ^as though I could scratch their eyes 
out!” 

For a moment Hopewell’s wife looked so spiteful, 
and her eyes snapped so, that Janice wanted to 
laugh. Of course, she did not do so. But to see 
the mild and sweet-tempered ’Rill display such 
venom was amusing. 

The store door opened with a bang. The girl 
and the woman both started up, Lottie remaining 
asleep. 

“Hush I Never mind !” whispered Janice to ’Rill. 
“I’ll wait on the customer.” 

When she went out into the front of the store, 
she saw that the figure which had entered was in a 
glistening slicker. It had begun to rain. 

“Why, Frank Bowman! Is it you?” she asked, 
in surprise. 

“Oh! how-do, Janice! I didn’t expect to find 
you here.” 

“Nor I you. What are you doing away up here 
on the hill?” Janice asked. 

Frank Bowman did not look himself. The girl 


116 


How Janice Day Won 


could not make out what the trouble with him was, 
and she was puzzled. 

“I guess you forgot I told you I was moving,’’ 
he said hesitatingly. 

*‘Oh, I remember! And you’ve moved up into 
this neighborhood?” 

‘‘Not exactly. I am going to lodge with the 
Threads, but I shall continue to eat Harm Par- 
raday’s cooking.” 

“The Threads?” murmured Janice. 

“You know. The little, crooked-backed man. 
He’s janitor of the school. His wife has two 
rooms I can have. Her brother has been staying 
with them; but he’s lost his job and has gone up 
into the woods. It’s a quiet place — and that’s what 
I want. I can’t stand the racket at the hotel any 
longer,” concluded the civil engineer. 

But Janice thought he still looked strange and 
spoke differently from usual. His glance wandered 
about the store as he talked. 

“What did you want to buy, Frank?” she asked. 
“I’m keeping store to-night.” She knew that ’Rill 
would not want the young man to see her tears. 

“Oh — ah — yes,” Bowman stammered. “What 
did I want?” 

At that Janice laughed outright. She thought 
highly of the young civil engineer, and she con- 
sidered herself a close enough friend to ask, bluntly: 


An Unexpected Emergency 117 

‘What ever is the matter with you, Frank Bow- 
man? You’re acting ridiculously.” 

He came nearer to her and whispered : “Where’s 
Mrs. Drugg?” 

Janice motioned behind her, and her face paled. 
What had happened? 

“I — I delcare I don’t know how to tell her,” mur- 
mured the young man, his hand actually trembling. 

“Tell her what?” gasped Janice. 

“Or even that I ought to tell her,” added Frank 
Bowman, shaking his head. 

Janice seized him by the lapel of his coat and 
tried to shake him. “What do you mean? What 
are you talking about?” she demanded. 

“What is the matter, Janice?” called ’Rill’s low 
voice from the back. 

“Never mind! I can attend to this customer,” 
Janice answered gaily. “It’s Frank Bowman.” 

Then she turned swiftly to the civil engineer 
again and whispered: “What is it about? Hope- 
well ?” 

“Yes,” he returned in the same low tone. 

“What is the matter with him?” demanded the 
girl greatly worried. 

“He’s down at the Inn ” 

“I know. He went there to play at a dance to- 
night. That’s why I am here — to keep his wife 
company,” explained Janice. 

“Well,” said Bowman. “I went down to get 


118 


How Janice Day Won 


some of my books Fd left there. They’re having 
a high old time in that big back room, downstairs. 
You know?” 

'‘Where they are going to have the Assembly 
Ball?” 

"Yes,” he agreed. 

"But it’s nothing more than a dance, is it?” 
whispered Janice. "Hopewell was hired to 
play ” 

"I know. But such playing you never heard 
in all your life,” said Bowman, with disgust. "And 
the racket! I wonder somebody doesn’t complain 
to Judge Little or to the Town Council.” 

"Not with Mr. Cross Moore holding a mortgage 
on the hotel,” said Janice, with more bitterness than 
she usually displayed. 

"You’re right there,” Bowman agreed gloomily. 

"But what about Hopewell?” 

"I believe they have given him something to 
drink. That Joe Bodley, the barkeeper, is up to 
any trick. If Hopewell keeps on he will utterly 
disgrace himself, and ” 

Janice clung to his arm tightly, interrupting his 
words with a little cry of pity. "And it will fairly 
break his wife’s heart!” she said. 


CHAPTER XIII 


INTO THE lion’s DEN 

Janice Day was growing up. 

What really ages one in this life? Emotions. 
F ear — sorrow — love — hate — sympathy — j ealousy — 
all the primal passions wear one out and make 
one old. This young girl of late had suffered from 
too much emotion. 

Nelson Haley’s trouble; her father’s possible 
peril in Mexico; the many in whom she was inter- 
ested being so affected by the sale of liquor in Polk- 
town — all these things combined to make Janice 
feel a burden of responsibility that should not have 
rested upon the shoulders of so young a girl. 

‘Trank,” she whispered to Bowman, there in the 
front of the dusky store, “Frank, what shall we 
do?” 

“What can we do ?” he asked quite blankly. 

“He — he should be brought home.” 

“My goodness !” Bowman stammered. “Do you 
suppose Mrs. Drugg would go down there after 
him ?” 

“She mustn’t,” Janice hastened to reply, with de- 
cision; “but I will.” 


119 


120 How Janice Day Won 

‘‘Not you, Janice!'’ Bowman exclaimed, recoiling 
at the thought. 

“Do you suppose Fd let you tell Mrs. Drugg?” 
demanded the girl, fiercely, yet under her breath. 

“He's her husband." 

“And Fm her friend." 

Bowman looked admiringly at the flushed face 
of the girl. “You are fine, Janice," he said. “But 
you’re too fine to go into that place down there 
and get Drugg out of it. If you think it is your 
duty to go for the man. I'll go with you. And I'll 
go in after him." 

“Oh, Mr. Bowman! If you would!" 

“Oh, I will. I only wish we had your car. He 
may be unable to walk and then the neighbors will 
talk." 

“It's got beyond worrying about what the neigh- 
bors say," said Janice wearily. “Now, wait. I 
must go and excuse myself to Mrs. Drugg. She 
must not suspect. Maybe it isn't as bad as you 
think and we’ll get Hopewell home all right." 

The storekeeper’s wife had carried Lottie back 
to the sitting room. The child was still asleep and 
'Rill was undressing her. 

“What is the matter, Janice?” she asked curi- 
ously. “Has Mr. Bowman gone? What did he 
want ?" 

“He didn't want to buy anything. He wanted 


Into the Lion’s Den 


121 


to see me. I — I am going out with him a little 
while, Miss ’Rill.'’ 

The latter nodded her head knowingly. “I 
know,” she said. ‘‘You are going across the street. 
I am glad Mr. Bowman feels an interest in Mr. 
Haley’s affairs.” 

“Yes!” gasped Janice, feeling that she was per- 
ilously near an untruth, for she was allowing ’Rill 
to deceive herself. 

“Will you put the window lamps out before 
you go, dear?” the storekeeper’s wife said. 

“Certainly,” Janice answered, and proceeded to 
do so before putting on her coat and hat. 

“Don’t be long,” ’Rill observed softly. “It’s 
after eleven now.” 

Janice came and kissed her — oh, so tenderly! 
They stood above the sleeping child. ’Rill had eyes 
only for the half naked, plump limbs and body of 
the little girl, or she might have seen something 
in Janice’s tearful glance to make her suspicious. 

Janice thought of a certain famous picture of 
the “Madonna and Child” as she tiptoed softly 
from the room, looking back as she went. ’Rill 
yearned over the little one as only a childless and 
loving woman does. Perhaps ’Rill had married 
Hopewell Drugg as much for the sake of being 
able to mother little Lottie as for any other reason. 

Yet, what a shock that tender, loving heart was 
about to receive — what a blow ! Janice shrank from 


122 


How Janice Day Won 

the thought of being one of those to bring this 
hovering trouble home to the trusting v^ife. 

Could she not escape it? There was her hand- 
bag on the end of the counter. She was tempted 
to seize it, run out of the store, and make her way 
homeward as fast as possible. 

She could leave Frank Bowman to settle the mat- 
ter with his own conscience. He had brought the 
knowledge of this trouble to the little store on the 
side street. Let him solve the problem as best he 
might. 

Then Janice gave the civil engineer a swift 
glance, and her heart failed her. She could not 
leave that unhappy looking specimen of helpless- 
ness to his own devices. 

Frank’s pompadour was ruffled, his eyes were 
staring, and his whole countenance was a troubled 
mask. In that moment Janice Day realized for the 
first time the main duty of the female in this world. 
That is, she is here to pull the incompetent male out 
of his difficulties! 

She thought of Nelson, thoughtful and sensible 
as he was, actually appalled by his situation in the 
community. And here was Frank Bowman, a very 
efficient engineer, unable to engineer this small mat- 
ter of getting Hopewell Drugg home from the 
dance, without her assistance. 

‘Dh, dear me ! what would the world be without 
us women?” thought Janice — ^and gave up all idea 


^5 

Into the Lion’s Den 12^ 

of running away and leaving Frank to bungle the 
situation. 

The two went out of the store together and closed 
the door softly behind them. Janice could not help 
glancing across at the lighted front windows of 
Mrs. Beaseley's cottage. 

‘There’s trouble over yonder,” said young Bow- 
man gently. ‘T went in to see him after supper. 
He said you’d been there to help him buck up, 
Janice. Really, you’re a wonderful girl.” 

‘T’m sorry,” sighed Janice. 

“What?” cried Frank. 

“Yes. I am sorry if I am wonderful. If I 
were not considered so, then not so many unpleas- 
ant duties would fall my way.” 

Frank laughed at that. “I guess you’re right,” 
he said. “Those that seem to be able to bear the 
burdens of life certainly have them to bear. But 
poor Nelson needs somebody to hold up his hands, 
as it were. He’s up against it for fair, Janice.” 

“Oh ! I can’t believe that the committee will con- 
tinue this persecution, when they come to think it 
over,” the girl cried. 

“It doesn’t matter whether they do or not, I 
fear,” Bowman said, with conviction. “The harm 
is done. He’s been accused.” 

“Oh, dear me ! I know it,” groaned Janice. 

“And unless he is proved innocent. Nelson Haley 
is bound to have trouble here in Polktown.” 


j: How Janice Day Won 

‘Do you believe so, Frank?” 

“I hate to say it. But we — his friends — might 
as well face the fact first as last,” said the civil en- 
gineer, sheltering Janice beneath the umbrella he 
carried. It was misting heavily and she was glad 
of this shelter. 

“Oh, I hope they will find the real thief very 
quickly !” 

“So do I. But I see nothing being done toward 
that. The committee seems satisfied to accuse Nel- 
son — ^and let it go at that.” 

“It is too, too bad!” 

“They are following the line of least resistance. 
The real thief is, of course, well away — out of 
Polktown, and probably in some big city where the 
coins can be disposed of to the best advantage.” 

“Do you really believe so?” cried the girl. 

“I do. The thief was some tramp or traveling 
character who got into the schoolhouse by stealth. 
That is the only sensible explanation of the mys- 
tery.” 

“Do you really believe so?” repeated Janice. 

“Yes. Think of it yourself. The committee and 
Benny Thread are not guilty. Nelson is not guilty. 
Only two keys to the building and those both ac- 
counted for. 

“Some time — perhaps on Friday afternoon or 
early evening — this tramp I speak of crept into the 
cellar when the basement door of the schoolhouse 


Into the Lion’s Den 


125 


was open, with the intention of sleeping beside the 
furnace. In the morning he slips upstairs and 
hides from the janitor and keeps in hiding when 
the four committeemen appear. 

‘‘He sees the trays of coins,’’ continued Frank 
Bowman, waxing enthusiastic with his own story, 
“and while the committeemen are downstairs, and 
before Nelson comes in, he takes the coins.” 

“Why before Nelson entered?” asked Janice 
sharply. 

“Because Nelson tells me that he did not see the 
trays on the table in the committee room when he 
looked in there. The thief had removed them, and 
then put the trays back. Had Nelson seen them he 
would have stopped to examine the coins, at least. 
You see, they were brought over from Middletown 
and delivered to Massey, who kept them in his safe 
all night. Nelson never laid eyes on them.” 

“I see! I see!” murmured Janice. 

, “So this fellow stole the coins and slipped out 
of the building with them. They may even be 
melted down and sold for old gold by this time; 
although that would scarcely be possible. At any 
rate, the committee will have to satisfy the owner 
of the collection. That is sure.” 

“And that is going to make them all just as mad 
as they can be,” declared the girl. “They want to 
blame somebody ” 

“And they have blamed Nelson. It remains that 


126 


How Janice Day Won 


he must prove himself innocent — ^before public 
opinion, not before a court. There they have to 
prove guilt. He is guilty already in the eyes of half 
of Polktown. No chance of waiting to be proved 
guilty before he is considered so.” 

Janice flushed and her answer came sharply: 
‘‘And how about the other half of Polktown?” 

“We may be evenly divided — ^fifty-fifty,” and 
Bowman laughed grimly. “But the ones who be- 
lieve — or say that they believe — Nelson Haley 
guilty, will talk much louder than those who deny.” 

“Oh, Frank Bowman! you take all my hope 
away.” 

“I don’t mean to. I want to point out to you — 
and myself, as well — ^that to sit idle and wait for 
the matter to settle itself, is not enough for us who 
believe Haley is guiltless. We’ve got to set about 
disproving the accusation.” 

“I — I can see you are right,” admitted the girl 
faintly. 

“Yes; I am right. But being right doesn’t end 
the matter. The question is: How are we going 
about it to save Nelson?” 

Janice was rather shocked by this conclusion. 
Frank had seemed so clear up to this point. And 
then he slumped right down and practically asked 
her: “What are you going to do about it?” 

“Oh, dear me!” cried Janice Day, faintly, “I 
don’t know. I can’t think. We must find some 


Into the Lion’s Den 


127 


way of tracing the real thief. Oh! how can I think 
of that, when here poor 'Rill and Hopewell are 
in trouble?" 

“Never mind ! Never mind, Janice !" said Frank 
Bowman. “We'll soon get Hopewell home. And 
I hope, too, that his wife will know enough to keep 
him away from the hotel hereafter." 

“But, suppose she can't," whispered Janice. 
“You know, his father was given to drinking." 

“No! Is that so?" 

“Yes. Maybe it is hereditary " 

“Queer it didn't show itself before," said Bow- 
man sensibly. “I am more inclined to believe that 
Joe Bodley is playing tricks. Why! he's kept bar 
in the city and I know he was telling some of the 
scatter-brained young fools who hang around the 
Inn, that he's often seen ‘peter' used in men's drink 
to knock them out. ‘Peter, ' you know, is ‘knock- 
out drops !' " 

“No, I don't know," said Janice, with disgust. 
“Or, I didn't till you told me." 

“Forgive me, Janice," the civil engineer said 
humbly. “I was only explaining." 

“Oh, I'm net blaming you at all," she said. “But 
I am angry to think that my own mind — as well as 
everybody's mind in Polktown — is being con- 
taminated from this barroom. We are all learning 
saloon phrases. I never heard so much slang from 
Marty and the other boys, as I have caught the last 


128 


How Janice Day Won 

few weeks. Having liquor sold in Polktown is 
giving us a new language.’’ 

“Well,” said Bowman, as the lights of the Inn 
came in sight, “I hadn’t thought of it that way. 
But I guess you are right. Now, now, Janice, what 
had we better do? Hear the noise?” 

“What kind of dance is it?” asked Janice, in dis- 
gust. “I should think that it was a sailor’s dance 
hall, or a lumber camp dance. I have heard of such 
things.” 

“It’s going a little too strong for Lem Parraday 
himself to-night, I guess. Marm shuts herself in 
their room upstairs, I understand, and reads her 
Bible and prays.” 

“Poor woman !” 

“She’s of the salt of the earth,” said Bowman 
warmly. “But she can’t help herself. Lem would 
do it. The Inn did not pay. And it is paying now. 
At least, he says it is.” 

“It won’t pay them in the end if this keeps up,” 
said Janice, listening to the stamping and the 
laughter and the harsh sounds of violins and piano. 
“Surely Hopewell isn’t making all that — that 
music?” 

“I’ll go in and see. I shouldn’t wonder if he was 
not playing at all now. Maybe one of the boys has 
got his fiddle.” 

“Oh, no ! He’d never let that precious violin out 
of his own hands, would he?” queried Janice. 


Into the Lion’s Den 


129 


''Why! do you know, Frank, I believe that is quite 
a valuable instrument.” 

"I don't know. But when I started uptown one 
of the visitors was teasing to get hold of the violin. 
I don't know the man. He is a stranger — a black- 
haired, foxy-looking chap. Although, by good 
rights, I suppose a 'foxy-looking' person should be 
red-haired, eh?” 

Janice, however, was not splitting hairs. She 
said quickly : "Do go in, Frank, and see what Hope- 
well is about.” 

"How'll I get him out?” 

"Tell him I want to see him. He’ll think some- 
thing has happened to 'Rill or Lottie. I don’t care 
if he is scared. It may do him good.” 

"I’ll go around by the barroom door,” said the 
young engineer, for they had come to the front en- 
trance of the hotel. 

Lights were blazing all over the lower floor of 
the sprawling building; but from the left of the 
front door came the sound of dancing. Some of 
the windows were open and the shades were up. 
Janice, standing in the darkness of the porch, could 
see the dancers passing back and forth before the 
windows. 

By the appearance of those she saw, she judged 
that the girls and women were mostly of the mill- 
hand class, and were from Middletown and Mill- 
hampton. She knew the men of the party were of 


130 


How Janice Day Won 

the same class. The tavern yard was full of all 
manner of vehicles, including huge party wagons 
which carried two dozen passengers or more. 
There was a big crowd. 

Janice felt, after all, as though she had urged 
Frank Bowman into the lion’s den! The dancers 
were a rough set. She left the front porch after 
a while and stole around to the barroom door. 

The door was wide open, but there was a half- 
screen swinging in the opening which hid all but 
the legs and feet of the men standing at the bar. 
Here the voices were much plainer. There were a 
few boys hanging about the doorway, late as the 
hour was. Janice was smitten with the thought 
that Marty’s boys’ club, the foundation society of 
the Public Library and Reading Room, would bet- 
ter be after these youngsters. 

‘‘Why, Simeon Howell !” she exclaimed suddenly. 
“You ought not to be here. I don’t believe your 
mother knows where you are.” 

The other boys, ,who were ragamuffins, giggled 
at this, and one said to young Howell : 

“Aw, Sim! Yer mother don’t know yer out, 
does she ? Better run home, Simmy, or she’ll spank 
ye.” 

Simeon muttered something not very compli- 
mentary to Janice, and moved away. The Howells 
lived on Hillside Avenue and he was afraid Janice 
would tell his mother of this escapade. 


Into the Lion’s Den 


131 


Suddenly a burst of voices proclaimed trouble 
in the barroom. She heard Frank Bowman^s voice, 
high-pitched and angry: 

“Then give him his violin! You’ve no right to 
it. Ill take him away all right; but the violin 
goes, too !” 

“No, we want the fiddle. He was to play for 
us,” said a harsh voice. “There is another feller 
here can play instead. But we want both violins.” 

“None of that!” snapped the engineer. “Give 
me that !” 

There was a momentary struggle near the flap- 
ping screen. Suddenly Hopewell Dfugg, very 
much disheveled, half reeled through the door; but 
somebody pulled him back. 

“Aw, don’t go so early, Hopewell. You’re your 
own man, ain’t ye ? Don’t let this white-haired kid 
boss you.” 

“Let him alone, Joe Bodley!” commanded B0W7 
man again, and Janice, shaking on the porch, knew 
that it must be the barkeeper who had interfered 
with Hopewell Drugg’s escape. 

The girl was terror-stricken; but she was indig- 
nant, too. She shrank from facing the half-intoxi- 
cated crowd in the room just as she would have 
trembled at the thought of entering a cage of lions. 

Nevertheless, she put her hand against the swing- 
ing screen, pushed it open, and stepped inside the 
tavern door. 


CHAPTER XIV, 


A DECLARATION OF WAR 

The room was a large apartment with smoke- 
cured and age-blackened beams in the ceiling. 
This was the ancient tap-room of the tavern, which 
had been built at that pre-Revolutionary time when 
the stuffed catamount, with its fangs and claws 
bared to the York State officers, crouched on top of 
the staff at Bennington — for Polktown was one of 
the oldest settlements in these ‘‘Hampshire Grants.’’ 

No noisier or more ill-favored crew, Janice Day 
thought, could ever have been gathered under the 
roof of the Inn, than she now saw as she pushed 
open the screen. Tobacco smoke poisoned the air, 
floating in clouds on a level with the men’s heads, 
and blurring the lamplight. 

There was a crowd of men and boys at the door 
of the dance hall. At the bar was another noisy 
line. It was evident that Joe Bodley had merely 
run from behind the bar for a moment to stop, if 
he could, Hopewell Drugg’s departure. Hopewell 
was flushed, hatless, and trembling. Whether he 
was intoxicated or ill, the fact remained that he 
was not himself. 


132 


A Declaration of War 


133 


The storekeeper clung with both hands to the 
neck of his violin. A greasy-looking, black-haired 
fellow held on to the other end of the instrument, 
and was laughing in the face of the expostulating 
Frank Bowman, displaying a wealth of white teeth, 
and the whites of his eyes, as well. He was a for- 
eigner of some kind. Janice had never seen him 
before, and she believed he must be the ‘Toxy- 
looking” man Frank had previously mentioned. 

It was, however, Joe Bodley, whom the indignant 
young girl confronted when she came so suddenly 
into the room. Most of the men present paid no 
attention to the quarreling group at the entrance. 

‘'Come now, Hopewell, be a sport,” the young 
barkeeper was saying. “It’s early yet, and we want 
to hear more of your fiddling. Give us that 'Dar- 
ling, I Am Growing Old’ stuff, with all the vari- 
ations. Sentiment ! Sentiment ! Oh, hullo ! 
Evening, Miss! What can I do for you?” 

He said this last impudently enough, facing 
Janice. He was a fat-faced, smoothly-shaven young 
man — little older than Frank Bowman, but with 
pouches under his eyes and the score of dissipa- 
tion marked plainly in his countenance. He had 
unmeasured impudence and bravado in his eyes and 
in his smile. 

''I have come to speak to Mr. Drugg,” Janice 
said, and she was glad she could say it unshakenly, 
despite her secret emotions. She would not give 


134 How Janice Day Won 

this low fellow the satisfaction of knowing how 
frightened she really was. 

Frank Bowman’s back was to the door. Perhaps 
this was well, for he would have hesitated to do 
just what was necessary had he known Janice was 
in the room. The young engineer had not been 
bossing a construction gang of lusty, ‘‘two-fisted” 
fellows for six months without many rude experi- 
ences. 

“So, you won’t let go, eh?” he gritted between 
his teeth to the smiling foreigner. 

With his left hand in his collar, Frank jerked 
the man toward him, thrust his own leg forward, 
and then pitched the fellow backward over his knee. 
This act broke the man’s hold upon Drugg’s violin 
and he crashed to the floor, striking the back of his 
head soundly. 

“All right, Mr. Drugg,” panted Frank. “Get 
out.” 

But it was Janice, still confronting Bodley, that 
actually freed the storekeeper from his enemies. 
Her eyes blazed with indignation into the bar- 
tender’s own. His fat, white hand dropped from 
Plopewell’s arm. 

“Oh, if the voung lady’s really come to take you 
home to the missus, I s’pose we’ll have to let you 
go,” he said, with a nasty laugh. “But no play, no 
pay, you understand.” 

Janice drew the bewildered Hopewell out of the 


A Declaration of War 


135 


door, and Frank quickly followed. Few in the 
room had noted the incident at all. 

The three stood a minute on the porch, the mist 
drifting in from the lake and wetting them. The 
engineer finally took the umbrella from Janice and 
raised it to shelter her. 

‘^They — ^they broke two of the strings,’^ muttered 
Hopewell, with thought for nothing but his precious 
violin. 

“YouM better cover it up, or it will be wet; and 
that won’t do any fiddle any good,” growled Frank, 
rather disgusted with the storekeeper. 

But there was something queer about Hopewell’s 
condition that both puzzled Janice and made her 
pity him. 

"‘He is not intoxicated — ^not as other men are,” 
she whispered to the engineer. 

"T don’t know that he is,” said Frank. “But he’s 
made us trouble enough. Come on; let’s get him 
home.” 

Drugg was trying to shelter the precious violin 
under his coat. 

“He has no hat and the fiddle bag is gone,” said 
Janice. 

“I’m not going back in there,” said the civil en- 
gineer decidedly. And then he chuckled, adding: 
“That fellow I tipped over will be just about ready 
to fight by now. I reckon he thinks differently 
now about the "white-headed kid,’ as he called me. 


136 


Flow Janice Day Won 


You see,” Frank went on modestly, ‘‘I was some- 
thing of a boxer at the Tech school, and Fve had 
to keep my wits about me with those 'muckers’ of 
the railroad construction gang.” 

"Oh, dear, me! I think there must be some- 
thing very tigerish in all of us,” sighed Janice. "I 
was glad when I saw that black-haired man go 
down. What did he want Hopewell’s violin for?” 

"Don’t know. Just meanness, perhaps. They 
doctored Hopewell’s drink somehow, and he was 
acting like a fool and playing ridiculously.” 

They could talk plainly before the storekeeper, 
for he really did not know what was going on. His 
face was blank and his eyes staring, but he had 
buttoned the violin beneath the breast of his coat. 

"Come on, old fellow,” Frank said, putting a 
heavy hand on Drugg’s shoulder. "Let’s be going. 
It’s too wet to stand here.” 

The storekeeper made no objection. Indeed, as 
they walked along, Hopewell between Frank and 
Janice, who carried the umbrella, Drugg seemed to 
be moving in a daze. His head hung on his breast ; 
he said no word; and his feet stumbled as though 
they were leaden and he had no feeling in them. 

"Mr. Bowman!” exclaimed Janice, at last, and 
under her breath, "he is ill !” 

"I am beginning to believe so myself,” the civil 
engineer returned, "I’ve seen enough drunken 


A Declaration of War 


137 


fellows before this to know that Hopewell doesn’t 
show many of the usual symptoms.” 

Janice halted suddenly. ‘'There’s a light in Mr. 
Massey’s back room,” she said. 

“Eh? Back of the drugstore? Yes, I see it,” 
Bowman said, puzzled. 

“Why not take Mr. Drugg there and see if Massey 
can give him something? I hate to take him home 
to ’Rill in this condition.” 

“Something to straighten him up — eh?” cried 
the engineer. “Good idea. If he’s there and will 
let us in,” he added, referring to the druggist, for 
the front store was entirely dark, it being now long 
past the usual closing hour of all stores in Polk- 
town. 

Janice and Frank led Hopewell Drugg to the 
side door of the shop, he making no objection to 
the change in route. It was doubtful if he even 
knew where they were taking him. He seemed in 
a state of partial syncope. 

Frank had to knock the second time before there 
was any answer. They heard voices — Massey’s and 
another. Then the druggist came to the entrance, 
unbolted it and stuck his head out — his gray hair 
all ruffled up in a tuft which made him, with his big 
beak and red-rimmed eyes, look like a startled 
cockatoo. 

“Who’s this, now? Jack Besmith again? What 
did I tell you?” he snapped. Then he seemed to 


138 


How Janice Day Won 


see that he was wrong, and the next moment ex- 
claimed : ‘‘Wal! I am jiggered !” for, educated man 
though he was, Mr. Massey had lived in the hamlet 
of his birth all of his life and spoke the dialect of 
the community. “Wal! I am jiggered!” he re- 
peated. “What ye got there?” 

“I guess you see whom we have, Mr. Massey,” 
said Frank Bowman pushing in and leading the 
storekeeper. 

“Oh, Mr. Massey ! It’s Hopewell Drugg,” Janice 
said pleadingly. “Can’t you help him ?” 

“Janice Day! I declare to sun-up!” ejaculated 
the druggist. “What you beauing about that half- 
baked critter for? And he’s drunk?” 

“He is not!” cried the girl, with indignation. “At 
least, he is like no other drunken person I have 
seen. He is ill. They gave him something to drink 
down at the Inn — at that dance where he was play- 
ing his violin — and it has made him ill. Don’t you 
see?” and she stamped her foot impatiently. 

“Hoity-toity, young lady!” chuckled Massey. 

They were all inside now and the druggist locked 
the door again. Behind the stove, in the corner, sat 
Mr. Cross Moore, and he did not say a word. 

“You can see yourself, Mr. Massey,” urged 
Frank Bowman, helping Drugg into a chair, “that 
this is no ordinary drunk.” 

“No,” Massey said reflectively, and now looked 
with some pity at the helpless man. “Alcohol never 


A Declaration of War 


139 


did exhilarate Hopewell. It just dopes him. It 
does some folks. And it doesn’t take much to do 
it.” 

“Then Hopewell Drugg has been in the habit of 
drinking?” asked Bowman, in surprise. “You have 
seen him this way before?” 

“No, he hasn’t. Never mind what these chatter- 
ing old women in town say about him now. I never 
saw him this way but once before. That was when 
he had been given some brandy. ’Member that 
time. Cross, when we all went fishin’ down to Pine 
Cove ? Gosh ! Must have been all of twenty years 
ago.” 

All that Mr. Cross Moore emitted was a grunt, 
but he nodded. 

“Hopewell cut himself — ^bad — on a rusty bailer. 
He fell on it and liked ter bled to death. You know. 
Cross, we gave him brandy and he was dead to 
the world for hours.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Moore. “What did he want to 
drink now for?” 

“I do not believe he knowingly took anything in- 
toxicating,” Janice said earnestly. “They have 
been playing tricks down there at the tavern on 
him.” 

“Tricks?” repeated Mr. Moore curiously. 

“Yes, sir,” said Janice. “Men mean enough to 
sell liquor are mean enough to do anything. And 
not only those who actually sell the stuff are to 


140 


How Janice Day Won 


blame in a case like this, but those who encourage 
the sale of it.” 

Mr. Cross Moore uncrossed his long legs and 
crossed them slowly the other way. He always 
had a humorous twinkle in his shrewd gray eye. 
He had it now. 

‘'Meaning me?” he drawled, eyeing the indignant 
young girl just as he would look at an angry kitten. 

"Yes, Mr. Moore,” said Janice, with dignity. 
"A word from you, and Lem Parraday would stop 
selling liquor. He would have to. And without 
your encouragement he would never have entered 
into the nefarious traffic. Pblktown is being in- 
jured daily by that bar at the Inn, and you more 
than any other one person are guilty of this crime 
against the community !” 

Mr. Cross Moore did not change his attitude. 
Janice was panting and half crying now. The 
selectman said, slowly: 

"I might say that you are an impudent girl.” 

"I guess I am,” Janice admitted tearfully. "But 
I mean every word I have said, and I won't take it 
back.” 

"You and I have been good friends, Janice Day,” 
continued Mr. Moore in his drawling way. "I 
never like to quarrel with my friends.” 

"You can be no friend of mine, Mr. Moore, till 
the sale of liquor stops in this town, and you are 


A Declaration of War 


141 


converted/’ declared Janice, wiping her eyes, but 
speaking quite as bravely as before. 

“Then it is war between us?” he asked, yet not 
lightly. 

“Yes, sir,” sobbed Janice. “I always have liked 
you, Mr. Cross Moore. But now I can’t bear even 
to look at you ! I don’t approve of you at all — ^not 
one little bit!” 


CHAPTER XV 


AND NOW IT IS DISTANT TROUBLE 

Mr. Massey had been attending to the overcome 
Hopewell Drugg. He mixed him something and 
forced it down his throat. Then he whispered to 
Frank Bowman: 

“It was brandy. I can smell it on his breath. 
Pshaw ! Hopewell's a harmless critter. Why 
couldn’t they let him alone?” 

Frank had taken up the violin. The moisture 
had got to it a little on the back and the young man 
thoughtlessly held it near the fire to dry. Hope- 
well’s eyes opened and almost immediately he stag- 
gered to his feet, reaching for the instrument. 

“Wrong! wrong!” he muttered. “Never do that. 
Crack the varnish. Spoil the tone.” 

“Hullo, old fellow!” said Mr. Massey, patting 
Hopewell on the shoulder. “Guess you feel better — 
heh?” 

“Ye — yes. Why! that you, Massey?” ejaculated 
the storekeeper, in surprise. 

“ ’Twas me when I got up this mornin’,” grunted 
the druggist. 

“Why — why — I don’t remember coming here to 
142 


And Now It Is Distant Trouble 143 


your store, Massey,” said the mystified Hopewell 
Drugg. “I — I guess I didn’t feel well.” 

“I guess you didn’t,” said the druggist, drily, 
eyeing him curiously. 

‘Was I sick? Lost consciousness? This is odd 
— ^very odd,” said Hopewell. ‘T believe it must 
have been that lemonade.” 

Mr. Cross Moore snorted. “Lemonade !” he 
ejaculated. “Suthin’ b’sides tartaric acid to aid 
the lemons in that lemonade, Hopewell. You was 
drunk !” 

Drugg blinked at him. “That — that’s a hard 
sayin’. Cross Moore,” he observed gently. 

“What lemonade was this, Hopewell ?” demanded 
the druggist. 

“I had some. Two glasses. The other musicians 
took beer. I always take lemonade.” 

“That’s what did it,” Frank Bowman said, aside 
to Janice. “Joe Bodley doped it.” 

“You had brandy, Hopewell. I could smell it 
on your breath,” said Massey. “And I know how 
that affects you. Remember?” 

“Oh, no, Massey! You know I do not drink 
intoxicants,” said Hopewell confidently. 

“I know you are a dern fool, Hopewell — ^and 
mebbe I’m one!” declared Mr. Cross Moore, sud- 
denly rising. Then he bolted for the door and went 
out without bidding anybody good night. 

Massey looked after his brother committeeman 


144 


How Janice Day Won 

with surprise. ‘‘Now!” he muttered, “what’s got 
into him, I’d like for to be told?” 

Meanwhile Hopewell was saying to Janice : “Miss 
Janice, how do you come here? I know Amarilla 
expected you. Isn’t it late?” 

“Mr. Drugg,” said the girl steadily, “we brought 
you here to be treated by Mr. Massey — Mr. Bow- 
man and I. I do not suppose you remember our 
getting you out of the Lake View Inn?” 

“Getting me out of the Inn?” he gasped flush- 
ing. 

“Yes. You did not know what you were doing. 
They did not want you to leave the dance, but Mr. 
Bowman made them let you come away with us.” 

“You don’t mean that, Miss Janice?” said the 
storekeeper horrified. “Are — are you sure? I had 
not been drinking intoxicants.” 

“Brandy, I tell ye, Hopewell!” exclaimed the 
druggist exasperated. “You keep away from the 
Inn. They’re playing tricks on you down there, 
them fellers are. You ain’t fit to run alone, any- 
way — and never was,” he added, too low for Hope- 
well to hear. 

“And look out for that violin, Mr. Drugg, if you 
prize it at all,” added Frank Bowman. 

“Why do you say that?” asked Hopewell puz- 
zled. 

“I believe there was a fellow down there trying 
to steal it,” the engineer said. “He had got it 


And Now It Is Distant Trouble 145 


away from you and was looking inside of it. Is the 
name of the maker inside the violin? Is it a valu- 
able instrument, Mr. Drugg?’’ 

‘‘I — I don’t know,” the other said slowly. ‘‘Only 
for its associations, I presume. It was my father’s 
instrument and he played on it a great many years. 
I — I think,” said Hopewell diffidently, “that it has 
a wonderfully mellow tone.” 

“Well,” said Frank, “that black-haired fellow 
had it. And he looks like a fellow that’s not to 
be trusted. There’s more than Joe Bodley around 
that hotel who will bear watching, I guess.” 

“I will not g6 down to Lem Parraday’s again,” 
sighed Hopewell. “I — I felt that I should earn all 
the extra money possible. You see, my little girl 
may have to return to Boston for treatment.” 

“It’s a mean shame !” muttered the civil engineer. 

“Oh! I hope you are wrong about Lottie,” 
Janice said quickly. “The dear little thing! She 
seemed very bright to-night,” she added, with more 
cheerfulness in her tone than she really felt. 

“Say, you don’t want that violin stole, Hope- 
well,” said Mr. Massey reflectively. “Enough’s 
been stole in Polktown to-day, I should say, to last 
us one spell.” 

“Never mind,” put in Frank Bowman, scornfully, 
looking full at the druggist. “You won’t have to 
pay for Mr. Drugg’s violin if it is stolen.” 

“Hum! Don’t I know that?” snarled Massey. 


146 


How Janice Day Won 


‘'We committeemen have our hands full with that 
missin^ collection. Wish't we^d never voted to have 
the coins brought over here. Them lectures are 
mighty foolish things, anyway. That is scored up 
against young Haley, too. He wanted the lecture 
to come here.^’ 

“And you are foolish enough to accuse Nelson 
of stealing the coins,’’ said Bowman, in a low voice. 
“I should think you’d have more sense.” 

“Hey!” exclaimed the druggist. “Who would 
you accuse?” 

“Not Haley, that’s sure.” 

“Nobody but the committee, the janitor, and 
Haley knew anything about the coins,” the drug- 
gist said earnestly. “They were delivered to me 
last night right here in the store by Mr. Hobart, the 
lecturer. He came through from Middletown 
a-purpose. He took the boat this morning for the 
Landing. Now, nobody else knew about the coins 
being in town ” 

“Who was here with you, Mr. Massey, when the 
coins were delivered to your keeping?” Janice Day 
interposed, for she had been listening. 

“Wam’t nobody here,” said Mr. Massey 
promptly. 

“You were alone in the store?” 

“Yes, I was,” quite as positively. 

“What did you do with the trays?” 

“Locked ’em in my safe.” 


And Now It Is Distant Trouble 147 


‘‘At once?” again asked Janice. 

“Say! what you tryin" to get at, young lady?” 
snorted the druggist. “Don't you s'pose I knew 
what I was about last night? I hadn’t been down 
to Lem Parraday’s.” 

“Some of you didn’t know what you were about 
this morning, or the coins never would have been 
lost,” said Frank Bowman significantly. 

“That’s easy enough to say,” complained the 
committeeman. “It’s easy enough to blame 


“And it seems to be easy for you men to blame 
Mr. Haley,” Janice interrupted indignantly. 

“Well!” 

“I’d like to know,” continued the girl, “if there 
was not somebody around here who saw Mr. Hobart 
bring the coins in here and leave them with you.” 

“What if there was?” demanded Mr. Massey 
with sudden asperity. “The coins were not stolen 
from this shop — make up your mind on that score, 
Miss Janice.” 

“But if some evilly disposed person had seen 
them in your possession, he might have planned to 
do exactly what was afterward done.” 

“What’s that?” demanded the druggist. 

“Planned to get into the schoolhouse, wait till 
you brought the coins there, and then steal them.” 

“Aw, young lady !” grunted the druggist. “That’s 
too far-fetched. I don’t want to hurt your feelin’s ; 


148 


How Janice Day Won 

but young Haley was tempted, and young Haley 
fell. That’s all there is to it.” 

Janice was not silenced. She said reflectively: 
“We may all be mistaken. I really wish you would 
put your mind to it, Mr. Massey, and try to re- 
member who was here in the evening, about the 
time that Mr. Hobart brought you the coin col- 
lection.” 

She was not looking at the druggist as she 
spoke; but she was looking into the mirror over 
the prescription desk. And she could see Massey’s 
face reflected in that glass. She saw his coun- 
tenance suddenly change. It flushed, and then 
paled, and he showed great confusion. But he did 
not say a word. She was puzzled, but said no more 
to him. It did not seem as though there was any- 
thing more to say regarding the robbery and Nel- 
son Haley’s connection with it. 

Besides, Hopewell Drugg was gently reminding 
her that they must start for home. 

“I’m afraid Amarilla will be anxious. It — it is 
dreadfully late,” he suggested. 

“We’ll leave Mr. Massey to think it over,” said 
Frank Bowman. “Maybe he’ll come to a better con- 
clusion regarding Nelson Haley.” 

“I don’t care who stole the coins. We want ’em 
back,” growled the druggist, preparing to lock them 
all out. 

The trio separated on the corner. Hopewell was 


And Now It Is Distant Trouble 149 


greatly depressed as he walked on with Janice 
Day. 

“I — I hope that Amarilla will not hear of this 
evening’s performance. I declare! I had no idea 
that that Bodley young man would play me such 
a trick. I shall have to refuse to play for any 
more of the dances,” he said, in his hesitating, 
stammering way. 

‘‘You may be sure I shall not tell her,” Janice 
said firmly. 

They went into the dark store together as though 
they had just met on the porch. “I’m awfully 
glad you’ve both come,” said ’Rill Drugg. “I 
was getting real scared and lonesome. Mr. Bow- 
man gone home, Janice?” 

The girl nodded. She had not much to say. The 
last hour had been so full of incident that she 
wanted to be alone and think it over. So she hur- 
ried to bid the storekeeper and his wife good night 
and went into the bedroom she was to share with 
little Lottie. 

Janice lay long awake. That was to be expected. 
Her mind was overwrought and her young heart 
burdened with a multitude of troubles. 

Her night spent with ’Rill had not turned out 
just as she expected, that was sure. From her 
window she could watch the front of Mrs. Bease- 
ley’s cottage and she saw that Nelson’s lamp burned 
all night. He was wakeful, too. It made another 


150 


How Janice Day Won 

bond between them; but it was not a bond that 
made Janice any more cheerful. 

She returned to the Day house early on Sunday 
morning, and her unobservant aunt did not notice 
the marks the young girl’s sleepless night had left 
upon her countenance. Aunt ’Mira was too greatly 
distracted just then about a new gown she, with the 
help of Mrs. John-Ed. Hutchins, had made and 
was to wear for the first time on this occasion. 

“That is, if I kin ever git the pesky thing ter 
set straight over my hips. Do come here an’ see 
what’s the matter with it, Janice,” Aunt ’Mira 
begged, in a great to-do over the frock. “What do 
you make of it?” 

“It doesn’t fit very smoothly — ^that is true,” 
Janice said gently. “I — I am afraid, Aunt’ Mira, 
that it draws so because you are not drawn in just 
the same as you were when the dress was fitted by 
Mrs. John-Ed.” 

“My soul and body!” gasped the heavy lady, in 
desperation. “I knowed it! I felt it in my bones 
that she’d got me pulled in too tight.” 

Janice finally got the good woman into proper 
shape to fit the new frock, rather than the new frock 
to fitting her, and started off with Aunt ’Mira to 
church, leaving Mr. Day and Marty to follow. 

Janice looked hopefully for Nelson. She really 
believed that he would change his determination at 
the last moment and appear at church. But he did 


And Now It Is Distant Trouble 151 


not. Nor did anybody see him outside the Bease- 
ley cottage all day. It was a very unhappy Sunday 
for Janice. 

The whole town was abuzz with excitement. 
There were two usually inoffensive persons '^on the 
dissecting table,” as Walky Dexter called it — Nelson 
and Hopewell Drugg. Much had already been said 
about the missing coin collection and Nelson Haley’s 
connection with it ; so the second topic of conversa- 
tion rather overshadowed the schoolmaster’s trou- 
ble. It was being repeated all about town that 
Hopewell Drugg had been taken home from the 
dance at the Lake View Inn ‘Toaring drunk.” 

Monday morning saw Nelson put to the test. 
Some of the boys gathered on the corner of High 
Street near the teacher’s lodging, whispering to- 
gether and waiting for his appearance. It was said 
by some that Mr. Haley would not appear ; that he 
“didn’t dare show his head outside the door.” 

About quarter past eight that morning there were 
many more people on the main street of the lake- 
side village than were usually visible at such an 
hour. Especially was there a large number of 
women, and it was notorious that on that par- 
ticular Monday more housewives were late with 
their weekly wash than ever before in the annals 
of Polktown. 

“Jefers-pelters !” muttered Walky Dexter, as he 
urged Josephus into High Street on his first trip 


152 


How Janice Day Won 


downtown. ‘‘What’s got ev’rybody? Circus in 
town? If so, it must ha’ slipped my mind.” 

“Yep,” said Massey, the druggist, at his front 
door, and whom the expressman had hailed. “And 
here comes the procession.” 

From up the hill came a troop of boys — ^most of 
them belonging in the upper class of the school. 
Marty was one of them, and in their midst walked 
the young schoolmaster! 

“I snum!” ejaculated Walky. “I guess that fel- 
ler ain’t got no friends — oh, no!” and he chuckled. 

The druggist scowled. “Boy foolishness. That 
don’t mean nothing.” 

“He, he, he! It don’t, hey?” drawled Walky, 
chirping to Josephus to start him. “Wal — ^mebbe 
not. But if I was you, and had plate glass winders 
like you’ve got, an’ no insurance on ’em, I wouldn’t 
let that crowd of young rapscallions hear my opinion 
of Mr. Haley.” 

Indeed, Marty and his friends had gone much 
further than passing resolutions. Nelson was their 
friend and chum as well as their teacher. He 
coached their baseball and football teams, and was 
the only instructor in gymnastics they had. The 
streak of loyalty in the average boy is the biggest 
and best thing about him. 

Nelson often joined the crowd on the way to the 
only level lot in town where games could be played ; 


And Now It Is Distant Trouble 153 


and this seemed like one of those Saturday occa- 
sions, only the boys carried their books instead of 
masks and bats. 

Their chorus of ‘‘Hullo, Mr. Haley!” “Morning, 
Mr. Haley I” and the like, as he reached the corner, 
almost broke down the determination the young 
man had gathered to show a calm exterior to the 
Polktown inhabitants. More than a few other well- 
wishers took pains to bow to the schoolmaster or 
to speak to him. And then, there was Janice, 
flying by in her car on her way to Middletown to 
school, passing him with a cheery wave of her 
gloved hand and he realized that she had driven this 
way in the car on purpose to meet him. 

Indeed, the young man came near to being quite 
as overwhelmed by this reception as he might have 
been had he met frowning or suspicious faces. But 
he got to the school, and the School Committee re- 
mained under cover — for the time being. 

Janice, coming back from Middletown in the 
afternoon, stopped at the post-offlce and got the 
mail. In it was a letter which she knew must be 
from her father, although the outer envelope was 
addressed in the same precise, clerkly hand which 
she associated with the mysterious Juan Dicampa. 

No introductory missive from the flowery Juan 
was inside, however; and her father’s letter began 
as follows: 


154 


How Janice Day Won 


“Dear daughter: — 

“I am under the necessity of putting on your 
young shoulders more responsibility than I think 
you should bear. But I find that of a sudden I 
am confined to an output of one letter a month, and 
that one to you. As I write in English, and these 
about me read (if they are able to read at all) 
nothing but Spanish, I have some chance of getting 
information and instructions to my partners in 
Ohio, by this means, and by this means only. 

“First of all, I will assure you, dear child, that 
my health is quite, quite good. There is nothing 
the matter with me save that I am a ‘guest of the 
State,’ as they pompously call it, and I cannot safely 
work the mining property. I am not going to dig 
ore for the benefit of either the Federal forces or 
the Constitutionalists. 

“I shall stay to watch the property, however, and 
meanwhile the Zapatist chief in power here watches 
me. He takes pleasure in nagging and interfering 
with me in every possible way; so issues this last 
decree limiting the number of letters to one a month. 

“He would do more, but he dare not. I happen 
to be on friendly terms with a chief who is this fel- 
low’s superior. If the chief in charge here should 
harm me and my friend should feel so inclined, he 
might ride up here, and stand my enemy up against 
an adobe wall. The fellow knows it — and is aware 
of my friend’s rather uncertain temper. That tern- 


And Now It Is Distant Trouble 155 


per, my dear Janice, known to all who have ever 
heard of Juan Dicampa, and his abundant health, 
is the wall between me and a possibly sudden and 
very unpleasant end.” 

t 

There was a great deal more to the letter, but 
at first Janice could not go on with it for surprise. 
The clerkly writer with the abundance of flowery 
phrases, Juan Dicampa was, then, a Mexican chief- 
tain — perhaps a half-breed Yaqui murderer! The 
thought rather startled Janice. Yet she was thank- 
ful to remember how warmly the man had written 
of her father. 

Much of what followed in her father's letter she 
had to transmit to the bank officials and others of 
his business associates in her old home town. But 
the important thing, it seemed all the time to Janice, 
was Juan Dicampa. 

She thought about him a great deal during the 
next few days. Mostly she thought about his 
health, and the chances of his being shot in some 
battle down there in Mexico. 

She began to read even more than heretofore of 
the Mexican situation in the daily papers. She be- 
gan to look for mention of Dicampa, and tried to 
learn what manner of leader he was among his 
people. 

If Juan Dicampa should be removed what, then, 
would happen to Broxton Day? 


CHAPTER XVI 


ONE MATTER COMES TO A HEAD 

That was a black week for Janice as well as for 
the young schoolmaster. She could barely keep her 
mind upon her studies at the seminary. Nelson 
Haley’s salvation was the attention he was forced 
to give to his classes in the Polktown school. 

One or another of the four committeemen who 
had constituted themselves his enemies, were hover- 
ing about Nelson all the time. He felt himself to 
be continually watched and suspected. 

Mr. Middler, who had been away on an exchange 
over Sunday, returned to find his parish split all but 
in two by the accusation against Nelson Haley. 
Mr. Middler was the fifth member of the School 
Committee, and both sides in the controversy clam- 
ored for him to take a hand in the case. 

‘‘Gentlemen,” he said to his four brother com- 
mitteemen in Massey’s back room, “I have not a 
doubt in my mind that you are all honestly con- 
vinced that Mr. Haley has stolen the coins. Other- 
wise you would not have made a matter public that 
was quite sure to ruin the young man’s reputation.” 

156 


One Matter Comes to a Head 157 


The four committeemen writhed imder this 
thrust, and the minister went on: 

'‘On the other hand, I have no doubt in my mind 
that Mr. Haley is just as innocent as I am of the 
robbery.*^ 

“Ye say that ’cause you air a clergyman,” said 
Cross Moore bluntly. “It’s your business to be 
alius seeing the good side of folks, whether they’ve 
got a good side, or not.” 

The minister flushed. “I thank God I can see the 
good side of my fellow men,” he said quickly. “I 
can even see your good side, Mr. Moore, when you 
are willing to uncover it. You do not show it now, 
when you persecute this young man ” 

“ ‘Persecute’ ? We oughter prosecute,” flashed 
forth Cross Moore. “The fellow’s as guilty as 
can be. Nobody else could have done it.” 

“I wonder?” returned the minister, and walked 
out before there could be further friction between 
them; for he liked the hard-headed, shrewd, and 
none-too-honest politician, as he liked few men in 
Polktown. 

If the minister did not distinctly array himself 
with the partisans of Nelson Haley, he expressed 
his full belief in his honesty in a public manner. 
And at Thursday night prayer meeting he incor- 
porated in his petition a request that his parishioners 
be not given to judging those under suspicion, and 


158 


How Janice Day Won 

that a spirit of charity be spread abroad in the 
community at just this time. 

The next day, Walky Dexter said, that charitable 
spirit the minister had prayed for ‘‘got awfully 
swatted.’^ News spread that on the previous Satur- 
day, only a few hours after the coin collection was 
missed. Nelson Haley had sent away a post-office 
money order for two hundred dollars. 

“That’s where a part of the missing money went,” 
was the consensus of public opinion. How this 
news leaked out from the post-office was a mystery. 
But when taxed with the accusation Nelson’s pride 
made him acknowledge the fact without hesitation. 

“Yes; I sent away two hundred dollars. It went 
to my aunt in Sheffield. I owed it to her. She 
helped me through college.” 

“Where did I get the money? I saved it from 
my salary.” 

Categorically, these were his answers. 

“If that young feller only could be tongue-tied 
for a few weeks, he might git out o’ this mess in 
some way,” Walky Dexter said. “He talks more 
useless than th’ city feller that was a-sparkin’ one 
of our country gals. He talked mighty high-falutin’ 
— lots dif’rent from what the boys she’d been 
bringed up with talked. 

“Sez he: ‘See haow b-e-a-u-tifiil th’ stars shine 
ter-night. An’ if th’ moon would shed — would 


One Matter Comes to a Head 159 


shed ' 'Never mind the woodshed/ sez the gal. 

'Go on with yer purty talk.' Haw! haw! haw! 

"Now, this here Nelson Haley ain’t got no more 
control of his tongue than that feller had. Jefers- 
pelters ! what ye goin’ ter do with a feller that tells 
ev’rything he knows jest because he’s axed?” 

"He’s perfectly honest,” Janice cried. "That 
shows it.” 

"If he’s puffec’ at all,” grunted Walky, "he’s 
a puffec’ fule ! That’s what he is !” 

And Nelson Haley’s frankness really did spell 
disaster. Taking courage from the discovery of 
the young schoolmaster’s use of money, the com- 
mittee swore a warrant out for him before Judge 
Little. It was done very quietly; but Nelson’s 
friends, who were on the watch for just such a 
move, were informed almost as soon as the dread- 
ful deed was done. 

News of it came to the Day house on Saturday 
afternoon, just before supper-time. On this occa- 
sion Uncle Jason waited for no meal to be eaten. 
Marty ran and got out Janice’s car. His cousin 
and Mr. Day joined him while Aunt ’Mira came to 
the kitchen door with the inevitable slice of pork 
dangling from her fork. 

"I’d run him right out o’ the county, that’s 
what I’d do, Janice, an’ let Cross Moore and Massey 
whistle for him !” cried the angry lady. "Leastwise, 


160 How Janice Day Won 

don’t ye let that drab old crab, Poley Cantor, take 
him to jail.” 

‘'We’ll see about that/' said Uncle Jason grimly. 
“Let her go, Marty — an’ see if ye can git us down 
the hill without runnin’ over nobody’s pup.” 

Perhaps Judge Little had purposely delayed giv- 
ing the warrant to Constable Cantor to serve. The 
Days found Nelson at home and ran him down to 
the justice’s office before the constable had started 
to hunt for his prey. 

The “drab” old constable met them in front of 
the justice’s office and marched back into the room 
with Janice and Nelson and Marty and his father. 
Judge Little looked surprised when they entered. 

“What’s this? what’s this?” he demanded, smil- 
ing at Janice. “Another case of speeding, Janice 
Day?” 

“Somebody’s been speeding, I reckon, Jedge,” 
drawled Mr. Day. “And their wheels have skidded, 
too. I understand that you’ve issued a warrant for 
Mr. Haley?” 

“Had to do it, Jason — positively had to,” said the 
justice. “Better serve it right here, quietly. Con- 
stable. This is a serious matter, Mr. Haley. I’m 
sorry.” 

“Wal,” drawled Uncle Jason, “it ain’t so serious, 
I s’pose, but what you kin take bail for him? I’m 
here to offer what leetle tad of property I own. 


One Matter Comes to a Head 161 


An’ if ye want more’n I got, I guess I kin find all 
ye want purty quick.” 

‘That’ll be all right, Jason,” Judge Little said 
quickly. ‘‘I’ll put him under nominal bail, only. 
We’ll have a hearing Monday evening, if that’s 
agreeable to ” 

“Nossir!” exclaimed Uncle Jason promptly. 
“This business ain’t goin’ ter be hurried. We gotter 
git a lawyer — and a good one. I dunno but Mr. 
Haley will refuse to plead and the case will hafter 
be taken to a higher court. Why, Jedge Little! 
this here means life an’ repertation to this young 
man, and his friends aren’t goin’ ter see no chance 
throwed away ter clear him and make them school 
committeemen tuck their tails atween their laigs, 
an’ skedaddle!” 

“Oh, very well, Jason. We’ll set the examination 
for next Saturday, then?” 

“That’ll be about right,” said Uncle Jason. 
“Give us a week to turn around in. What d’ye 
say, Mr. Haley?” 

“I’d like to have it over as quickly as possible,” 
sighed the young man. “But I think you know best, 
Mr. Day.” 

He could not honestly feel grateful. As they 
got into the car again to whirl up the hill to the 
Day house for supper. Nelson felt a little doubt- 
ful, after all, of Mr. Day’s wisdom in putting off 
the trial. 


162 


How Janice Day Won 


‘‘I might just as well be tried, convicted, and 
sentenced right now, as to have it put off a week,” 
he said, after they reached the Day place. ‘They’ve 
got me, and they mean to put me through. A de- 
mand has been made upon the committee through 
the State Board by the owner of the collection of 
coins. The value of the collection is placed by the 
owner at sixteen hundred and fifty dollars, their 
face value — although some of the pieces were rare, 
and worth more. There is not a man of the quar- 
tette that would not sell his soul for four hundred 
and twelve dollars and fifty cents !” 

''Now you’ve said a mouthful!” grunted Marty, 
in agreement. 

“That’s a hard sayin’,” Mr. Day observed judi- 
ciously. “They’re all — th’ hull quadruped (Yes, 
Marty, that’s what I meant, ‘quartette,’) of ’em — 
purty poor pertaters, I ’low. But four hundred 
dollars is a lot of money for any man ter lose.” 

Nelson was very serious, however. He said to 
Janice : 

“You see now, can’t you, why I can not teach any 
longer? I should not have done it this past week. 
I shall ask for my release. It is neither wise, nor 
right for a person accused of robbery to teach 
schop*! in the community.” 

“Oh, Nelson !” gasped the girl despairing. 

“Hi tunket! I won’t go to school — a-tall, if they 
don’t let you teach, Mr. Haley,” cried Marty. 


One Matter Comes to a Head 163 


"'Of course you will, Marty,” said the school- 
master. "I shall need you boys right there to stand 
up for me.” 

"Well!” gasped the very red lad, "you kin bet if 
they put Miss Pearly Breeze inter your place, I 
won't go. Fve vowed I won't never go to school 
to no old maid again !” 

"Wal, now you've said it,” sniffed his father, "and 
hev relieved your mind, s'pose ye bring in some 
wood for the settin' room stove. We need a spark 
o' fire to take the chill off.” 

Meanwhile Nelson was saying: "'I will resign; 
I will not wait for them to request me to get out. 
If you will lend me ink and paper, Janice, Fll write 
my resignation here and hand it to Massey as I go 
home.” 

"'But, Mr. Middler ” began Janice. 

"Mr. Middler is only one of five. He has no 
power now in the committee, for the other four 
are against him. Cross Moore and Massey and 
Crawford and Joe Pellet mean to put it on me if 
they can. I think they have already had legal ad- 
vice. I think they will attempt to escape responsi- 
bility for the loss of the coin collection by prosecut- 
ing and convicting me of having stolen the money. 
They were not under bond, you know.” 

"It's a mess ! it's a mess !” groaned Uncle Jason, 
"whichever way ye look at it. What ye goin' ter 
do, Mr. Haley, if ye don't teach?” 


164 


How Janice Day Won 


‘‘I’d go plumb away from here an’ never come 
back to Polktown no more!” declared the heated 
Marty, coming in with an armful of wood. 

“I feel as though I might as well do that, Marty, 
when I hear you speak,” said Nelson, shaking his 
head. “What good does it do you to go to school? 
I have failed somewhere when you use such poor 
grammar as ” 

“Huh! what’s good grammar?” demanded the 
boy, so earnest that he interrupted the teacher. 
“That won’t make ye a civil engineer — and that’s 
what I’m goin’ ter be.” 

“A proper use of English will help even in that 
calling in life,” said the schoolmaster. “But 
seriously, I have no intention of running away.” 

“Ye don’t wanter be idle,” Mr. Day said. 

“I’ll find something to do, I fancy. But whether 
or no, it shall not be said of me that I was afraid 
to face this business. I won’t run away from it.” 

Janice squeezed his hand privately in approval. 
She had been afraid that he might wish to flee. 
And who could blame him? During this week of 
trial, however. Nelson Haley had recovered his 
self-control, and had deliberately made up his mind 
to the manly course. 

Nevertheless, he did not appear in his accustomed 
place in church on the morrow. It “was not possible 
for him to walk boldly up the church aisle among 
the people who doubted his honesty, or would sneer 


One Matter Comes to a Head 165 

at him, either openly or behind his back. And 
it was known all over the town by church time 
that Sunday that he had been arrested, bailed, and 
had asked the school committee for a vacation of 
indefinite length and without pay, and that this had 
been granted. 

Miss Pearly Breeze and her contingent of friends 
were not happy for long. The School Committee 
knew that a return to old methods in school mat- 
ters would never satisfy Polktown again. 

They telegraphed the State Superintendent of 
Schools and a proper and capable substitute for 
Mr. Haley was expected to arrive on Monday. 

It was on Monday morning, too, that Nelson’s 
partisans and the enemy came to open warfare. 
That is, the junior portion of the community began 
belligerent action. 

Janice was rather belated that morning in start- 
ing for Middletown in the Kremlin car. Marty 
jumped on the running board with his school books 
in a strap, to ride down the hill to the .corner of 
School Street. 

Just as they came in sight of Polktown’s hand- 
some brick schoolhouse, there was Nelson Haley 
briskly approaching. 

He had given up his key to the committee on 
Saturday night; but there were books and private 
papers in his desk that he desired to remove before 
his successor arrived. The front door w^s locked 


166 


How Janice Day Won 


and he had to wait for Benny Thread to hobble 
up from the basement to open it. 

This delay brought every woman on the block 
to her front windows. Some peeped from behind 
the blinds; some boldly came out on their “stoops” 
to eye the unfortunate schoolmaster askance. A 
group of boys were gathered on the corner within 
plain earshot of the schoolmaster. As Janice turned 
the car carefully into School Street Sim Howell, 
one of these young loungers, uttered a loud bray. 

“What d’ye s’pose he’s after now?” he then de- 
manded of nobody in particular, but loud enough 
for all the neighbors to hear. “S’pose he thinks 
there’s any more money in there ter steal?” 

“Stop, Janice!” yelped Marty. “I knew I’d got 
ter do it. That feller’s been spoilin’ for it for a 
week! Lemme down, I say!” 

He did not wait for his cousin to obey his com- 
mand. Before she could stop the car he took a fly- 
ing leap from the running-board of the automo- 
bile. His books flew one way, his cap another; 
and with a wild shout of rage, Marty fell upon Sim 
Howell! 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN 

Janice ran the car on for half a block before 
she stopped. She looked back. She had never ap- 
proved of fisticuffs — ^and Marty was prone to such 
disgraceful activities. Nevertheless, when she saw 
Sim Howelbs blood-besmeared coimtenance, his 
wide-open mouth, his clumsy fists pawing the air 
almost blindly, something primal — instinctive — 
made her heart leap in her bosom. 

She delighted in Marty's clean blows, in his 
quick ‘‘duck" and “side-step and when her 
cousin's freckled fist impinged upon the fatuous 
countenance of Sim Howell, Janice Day uttered an 
unholy gasp of delight. 

She saw Nelson striding to separate the com- 
batants. She hoped he would not be harsh with 
Marty. 

Then, seeing the neighbors gathering, she pressed 
the starter button and the Kremlin glided on again. 
The tall young schoolmaster was between the two 
boys, holding each off at arm's length, when Janice 
wheeled around the far comer and gave a last 
glance at the field of combat. 

167 


168 


How Janice Day Won 


'‘I am getting to be a wicked, wicked girl!” she 
accused herself, when she was well out of town and 
wheeling cheerfully over the Lower Road toward 
Middletown. “I have just longed to see that Simeon 
Howell properly punished ever since I caught him 
that day mocking Jim Narnay. And that arises 
from the influence of Lem Parraday’s bar. Oh, 
dear me ! I am affected by the general epidemic, I 
believe. 

“If the Inn did not sell liquor, in all human 
probability, Namay would not have been drunk that 
day; at least, not where I could see him. And so 
Sim and those other young rascals would not have 
chased and mocked him. I would not have felt so 
angry with Sim — Dear me! everything dovetails 
together. Nelson’s trouble and all. I wonder if, 
after all, the selling of liquor at the Inn isn’t at 
the bottom of Nelson’s trouble. 

“It sounds foolish — or at least, far-fetched. But 
it may be so. Perhaps the person who stole those 
coins was inspired to do the wicked deed because 
he was under the influence of liquor. And, of 
course, the Lake View Inn was the nearest place 
where liquor was to be bought. 

“Dear me! Am I foolish? Who knows?” Janice 
concluded, with a sigh. 

The thought of Sim Howell mocking Jim Namay 
reminded her of the latter’s unfortunate family. 
She had been only once to the little cottage near Pine 


The Opening of the Campaign 169 

Cove since Narnay had gone into the woods with 
Trimmins and Jack Besmith. 

Nor had she been able to see Dr. Poole, amid her 
multitudinous duties, and ask him how the nameless 
little baby was getting on ; although she had at once 
left a note at the doctor^s office asking him to call 
and see the child at her expense. 

The peril threatening her father and the peril 
threatening Nelson Haley filled Janice Day’s mind 
and heart so full that other interests had been rather 
lost sight of during the past eventful week. 

She had not seen Frank Bowman since the time 
they had separated on the street corner by the drug 
store, late Saturday night, when she had taken 
Hopewell Drugg home. 

Bowman was with his railroad construction gang 
not far off the Lower Middletown Road. But 
Janice had been going to and from school by the 
Upper Road, past Elder Concannon’s place, be- 
cause it was dryer. 

This morning, however, Frank heard her car 
coming, and he appeared, plunging through the 
jungle, shouting to her to stop. He could scarcely 
make a mistake in hailing the car, for Janice’s auto- 
mobile was almost the only one that ran on this 
road. By summer time, however, the boarding 
house people and Lem Parraday hoped that auto- 
mobiles in Polktown would be, in the words of 
Walky Dexter, “as thick as fleas on a yaller hound.” 


170 


How Janice Day Won 


Janice saw Frank Bowman coming, if she did not 
hear him call, and slowed down. He strode crash- 
ingly down the hillside in his high boots, corduroys, 
and canvas jacket, his face flushed with exercise 
and, of course, broadly smiling. Janice liked the 
civil engineer immensely. He lacked Nelson 
Haley’s solid character and thoughtfulness; but he 
always had a fund of enthusiasm on tap. 

‘‘How goes the battle, Janice?” was his cheery 
call, as he leaped down into the roadway and thrust 
out a gloved hand to grasp hers. 

“I guess, by now, Simmy Howell has learned a 
thing or two,” she declared, her mind on the scrim- 
mage she had just seen. 

“What?” demanded Bowman, wonderingly. 

At that Janice burst into a laugh. “Oh! I am 
a perfect heathen. I suppose you did not mean 
Marty’s battle with his schoolmate. But that was 
in my mind.” 

“What’s Marty fighting about now?” asked the 
civil engineer, with a puzzled smile. “And are 
you interested in such sparring encounters?” 

“I was in this one,” confessed Janice. Then 
she told him of the occurrence — and its cause, of 
course. 

“Well, I declare!” said Frank Bowman, happily. 
“For once I fully approve of Marty.” 

“Do you? Well, to tell the truth, so do I!” 


The Opening of the Campaign 171 

gasped Janice, laughing again. “But I know it is 
wicked.’’ 

“Guess the whole Day family feels friendly 
toward Nelson,” declared the engineer. “I hear 
Mr. Day went on Nelson’s bond Saturday night.” 

“Yes, indeed. Dear Uncle Jason! He’s slow, 
but he’s dependable.” 

“Well, I am glad Nelson Haley has some 
friends,” Bowman said quickly. “But I didn’t 
stop you to say just this.” 

“No?” 

“No,” said the civil engineer. “When I asked 
you, ‘How goes the battle?’ I was thinking of 
something you said the other night when we were 
rounding up that disgraceful old reprobate, Hope- 
well Drugg,” and he laughed. 

“Oh, poor Hopewell! Isn’t it a shame the way 
they talk about him?” 

“It certainly is,” agreed Frank Bowman. “But 
whether Hopewell Drugg is finally injured in char- 
acter by Lem Parraday’s bar or not, enough other 
people are being injured. You said you’d do any- 
thing to see it closed.” 

“I would,” cried Janice. “At least, anything 
I could do.” 

“By jove! so would I!” exclaimed Frank Bow- 
man, vigorously. “It was pay night for my men 
last Saturday night. One third of them have not 
shown up this morning, and half of those that 


172 


How Janice Day Won 


have are not fit for work. I’ve got a reputation 
to make here. If this drunkenness goes on I’ll have 
a fat chance of making good with the Board of 
Directors of the railroad.” 

‘‘How about making good with that pretty 
daughter of Vice President Harrison’s ?” asked 
Janice, slily. 

Bowman blushed and laughed. “Oh ! she’s kind. 
She’ll understand. But I can’t take the same ex- 
cuses for failure to a Board of Directors.” 

“Of course not,” laughed Janice. “A mere Board 
of Directors hasn’t half the sense of a lovely girl 
— nor half the judgment.” 

“You’re right!” cried Bowman, seriously. “How- 
ever, to get back to my men. They’ve got to 
put the brake on this drinking stuff, or I’ll never 
get the job done. As long as the drink is right 
here handy in Polktown, I’m afraid many of the 
poor fellows will go on a spree every pay day.” 

“It is too bad,” ventured Janice, warmly. 

“I guess it is! For them and me, too!” said 
Bowman, shaking his head. “Do you know, these 
fellows don’t want to drink ? And they wouldn’t 
drink if there was anything else for them to do 
when they have money in their pockets. Let me 
tell you, Janice,” he added earnestly, “I believe 
that if these fellows had it to- vote on right now, 
they’d vote ‘no license’ for Polktown — yes, 
ma’am !” 


The Opening of the Campaign 173 

‘‘Oh! I wish we could all vote on it,” cried 
Janice. “I am sure more people in Polktown would 
like to see the bar done away with, than desire 
to have it continued.” 

“I guess you’re right!” agreed Bowman. 

“But, of course, we ‘female women,’ as Walky 
calls us, can’t vote.” 

“There are enough men to put it down,” said 
Bowman, quickly. “And it can come to a vote in 
Town Meeting next September, if it’s worked up 
right.” 

“Oh, Frank! Can we do that?” 

“Now you’ve said it!” crowed the engineer. 
“That’s what I meant when I wondered if you had 
begun your campaign.” 

“My campaign?” repeated Janice, much flurried. 

“Why, yes. You intimated the other night that 
you wanted the bar closed, and Walky has told all 
over town that you’re ‘due to stir things up,’ as he 
expresses it, about this dram selling.” 

“Oh, dear!” groaned Janice, in no mock alarm. 
“My fatal reputation! If my friends really loved 
me they would not talk about me so.” 

“I’m afraid there is seme consternation under 
Walky’s talk,” said Bowman, seriously. “He likes 
a dram himself and would be sorry to see the bar 
chased out of Polktown. I hope you can do it, 
Janice.” 

“Me — me, Frank Bowman! You are just as 


174 How Janice Day Won 

bad as any of them. Putting it all on my shoul- 
ders.’' 

*‘The time is ripe,” went on the engineer, seri- 
ously. “You won’t be alone in this. Lots of peo- 
ple in the town see the evil flowing from the bar. 
Mrs. Thread tells me her brother would never 
have lost his job with Massey if it hadn’t been for 
Lem Parraday’s rum selling.” 

“Do you mean Jack Besmith?” cried Janice, 
startled. 

“That’s the chap. Mrs. Thread is a decent little 
woman, and poor Benny is harmless enough. But 
she is worried to death about her brother.” 

Janice, remembering the condition of the ex- 
drug clerk when he left Polktown for the woods, 
said heartily: “I should think she would be wor- 
ried.” 

“She tells me he tried to get back his job with 
Massey on Friday night — the evening before he 
went off with Trimmins and Namay. But I expect 
he’d got Mr. Massey pretty well disgusted. At 
any rate, the druggist turned him down, and turned 
him down hard.” 

“Poor fellow!” sighed Janice. 

“I don’t know. Oh, I suppose he’s to be pitied,” 
said Frank Bowman, with some disgust. “Any- 
how, Besmith got thoroughly desperate, went down 
to the Inn after his interview with his former em- 
ployer, and spent all the money he had over Lem’s 


The Opening of the Campaign 175 


bar. He didn't come home at all that night ” 

‘^Oh!” exclaimed Janice, remembering suddenly 
where Jack Besmith had probably slept off his de- 
bauch, for she had seen him asleep in her uncle's 
sheep fold on that particular Saturday morning. 

‘‘He's a pretty poor specimen, I suppose," said 
the engineer, eyeing Janice rather curiously. “He's 
one of the weak ones. But there are others!" 

Janice was silent for a moment. Indeed, she was 
not following closely Bowman's remarks. She was 
thinking of Jack Besmith. Mr. Massey had evi- 
dently been much annoyed by his discharged clerk. 

When she and Frank Bowman, with Hopewell 
Drugg, had gone to the druggist's back door that 
eventful Saturday night, Massey had thought it was 
Jack Besmith summoning him to the door. Massey 
had spoken Besmith's name when he first opened 
the door and peered out into the mist. 

“Now, Janice," she suddenly heard Frank Bow- 
man say, “what shall we do?" 

She awoke to the subject under discussion with a 
start. “Goodness! do you really expect me to tell 
you ?" 

“Why — why, you see, Janice, you've got ideas. 
You always do have," said the civil engineer, hum- 
bly. “I've talked to such of my men as have cOme 
back to work this morning. Of course, they have 
been off before, on pay day; but this is the worst. 


176 


How Janice Day Won 


They had a big time down there at the Inn Satur- 
day night and Sunday morning.’’ 

‘‘Poor Mrs. Parraday !” sighed Janice. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry for Marm Parraday. 
She’s the salt of the earth. But there are more 
than Marm Parraday suffering through Lem’s sell- 
ing whiskey. But about my boys,” added the en- 
gineer. “They tell me if the stuff wasn’t so handy 
they would finish the job without going on these 
sprees. And I believe they would.” 

“Well! I’ll think about it,” Janice rejoined, 
preparing to start her car. “I suppose if I don’t go 
ahead in the matter, the railroad will never get its 
branch road built into Polktown ?” and she laughed. 

“That’s about the size of it!” cried Bowman, 
as the wheels began to roll. 

But it was of Jack Besmith, the ex-drug clerk, 
that Janice Day thought as she sepd on toward 
the seminary and not of the opening of the cam- 
paign against the liquor traffic in Polktown, which 
she felt had really been organized on this morning. 

In some way the ne’er-do-well was connected in 
her mind with another train of thought that, until 
now, had had “the right of way” in her inner 
consciousness. What had Jack Besmith to do with 
Nelson Haley’s troubles? 

Janice Day was puzzled. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


HOPEWELL SELLS HIS VIOLIN 

Janice Day had no intention of avoiding what 
seemed, finally, to be a duty laid upon her. If 
everybody else in Polktown opposed to the sale of 
liquor, merely complained about it — and in a hope- 
less, helpless way — it was not in her disposition to 
do so. She was Broxton Day’s own daughter 
and she absolutely had to do something! She was 
imbued with her father’s spirit of helpfulness, and 
she believed thoroughly in his axiom: If a thing 
is wrong, go at it and make it right. 

Of course, Janice knew very well that a young 
girl like herself could do little in reality about 
this awful thing that had stalked into Polktown. 
She could do nothing of her own strength to put 
down the liquor traffic. But she believed she might 
set forces in motion which, in the end, would bring 
about the much-desired reformation. 

She had done it before. Her inspiration had 
touched all of Polktown and had awakened and 
rejuvenated the old place. She had learned that 
all that the majority of people needed to rank them 
on the active side of right, was to be made to 
177 


178 


How Janice Day Won 

think. She determined that Polktown should be 
made to think upon this subject of liquor selling. 

After school she drove around by the Upper 
Road and branched off into a woods path that she 
had not dared venture into the week before. The 
Spring winds had done much to dry this woodroad 
and there were not many mud-holes to drive around 
before she came in sight of the squatters’ cabin oc- 
cupied by the family of Mr. Trimmins. 

This transplanted family of Georgia ‘‘crackers’* 
had been a good deal of a misfit in the Vermont 
community until Janice had found and interested 
herself in them. Virginia, a black-haired sprite of 
eleven or twelve, was the leader of the family in 
all things, although there were several older chil- 
dren. But “Jinny” was born to be a commander. 

Having made a friend of the little witch of a girl, 
and of Buddy, who had been the baby the year be- 
fore, but whose place had been usurped because 
of the advent of another tow-head into the family, 
the others of “them Trimminses,” as they were 
spoken of in Polktown, had become Janice Day’s 
staunch friends. Virginia and two of her sisters 
came regularly to the meetings of the Girls’ Guild 
which Janice had founded ; but it was a long walk 
to the Union Church and Janice really wondered 
how they ever got over the road" in stormy weather. 

It always puzzled Janice where so many children 
managed to sleep when bedtime came, unless they 


Hopewell Sells His Violin 179 


followed the sea law of ‘Vatch and watch.’’ Now 
all the children who were at home poured out of the 
cabin to greet the driver of the Kremlin car. The 
whole family, as now arrayed before her, she had 
not seen since Christmas. 

She had not forgotten to bring a great bag of 
‘‘store cakes,” of which these poor little Trimminses 
were inordinately fond; so most of them soon 
drifted away, each with a share of the goodies, 
leaving Janice to talk with Mrs. Trimmins and 
Jinny and play with Buddy and the baby. 

“It’s a right pretty evening, Miss Janice,” said 
Mrs. Trimmins. “I shell be glad enough when the 
settled weather comes to stay. I kin git some o’ 
these young’uns out from under foot all day long, 
then. 

“Trimmins has got a gang wo’kin’ for him over 
th’ mountain a piece ” 

“Here comes dad now,” said the sharp-eyed Vir- 
ginia. “And the elder’s with him.” 

“Why — ya-as,” drawled her mother, “so ’tis. 
It’s one of Concannon’s timber lots Trimmins is a- 
wo’kin’ at.” 

The elder, vigorous and bewhiskered, came 
tramping into the clearing like a much younger 
man. Trimmins slouched along by his side, chew- 
ing a twig of black birch. 

“No, Trimmins,” the elder was saying decisively. 
“We’ll stick to the letter of the contract. I furnish 


180 


How Janice Day Won 


the team and feed them. I went a step further 
and furnished supplies for three men instead of 
two. But not one penny do you nor they handle 
till the job is finished.” 

‘‘That’s all right, Elder,” drawled the Georgian. 
“That’s ’cordin’ to contrac’, I know. I don’t keer 
for myself. But Narnay and that other feller are 
mighty hongree for a li’le change.” 

“Powerful thirsty, ye mean !” snorted the elder. 

“Wa-al — mebbe so! mebbe so!” agreed Trim- 
mins, with a weak grin. 

“They knew the agreement before they started 
in with you on the job, didn’t they?” 

“Oh, ya-as. The}^ knowed about the contrac’.” 

“ ’Nuff said, then,” grunted the elder. “Oh ! is 
that you, Janice Day? I’ll ride back with you,” 
added the elder, who had quite overcome his dis- 
like for what he had formerly termed “devil 
wagons,” since one very dramatic occasion when 
he himself had discovered the necessity for travel- 
ing much “faster than the law allowed.” 

“You are very welcome. Elder Concannon,” Jan- 
ice said, smiling at him. 

She kissed the two babies and Virginia, shook 
hands with Mrs. Trimmins, and then waved a 
gloved hand to the rest of the family as she settled 
herself behind the steering wheel. The elder got 
into the seat beside her. 

“I declare for’t, Janice!” the elder said, as they 


Hopewell Sells His Violin 181 


started, the words being fairly jerked out of his 
mouth, “I dunno but I’d like to own one of these 
contraptions myself. You can git around lively in 
’em — and that’s a fac’.” 

'They are a whole lot better than 'shanks’ mare,’ 
Elder,” said the young girl, laughing. 

"I — should — say! And handy, too, when the 
teams are all busy. Now I had to walk clean over 
the mountain to-day to that piece where Trimmins 
and them men are working. Warn’t a boss fit to 
use.” 

"Has Mr. Trimmins a big gang at work?” 

The elder chuckled. "He calls it a gang — him, 
and Jim Narnay, and a boy. They’ve all got a 
sleight with the axe, I do allow ; and the boy handles 
the team right well.” 

"Is he Jack Besmith?” questioned Janice. 

"That’s his name, I believe,” said the elder. 
"Likely boy, I guess. But if I let ’em have any 
money before the job is done — as Trimmins wants 
me to — none of 'em would do much till the money 
was spent — boy and all.” 

"It is too bad about young Besmith,” Janice 
said, shaking her head. "He is only a boy.” 

"Yep. But a month or so in the woods without 
drink will do him a heap of good.” 

That very evening, however, Janice saw Jack 
Besmith in town. From Marty she learned that he 
did not stay long. 


182 


How Janice Day Won 


“He came in for booze — that’s what he come 
for,” said her cousin, in disgust. “He started 
right back for the woods with a two-gallon demi- 
john.” 

“And I thought they had no money up there,”" 
Janice reflected. “Can it be that Lem Parraday or 
his barkeeper would trust them for drink?” 

Marty was nursing a lump on his jaw and a cut 
lip. The morning’s battle had not gone all his 
way, although he said to Janice with his usual 
impish grin when she commented upon his battered 
appearance: “You’d orter see the other feller! If 
Nelson Haley hadn’t got in betwixt us I’d ha’ 
whopped Sim Howell good and proper. I was some 
excited, I allow. If I hadn’t been I needn’t never 
run ag’inst Sim’s fist a- to//. He’s a clumsy kid, if 
ever there was one — and I reckon he’s got enough 
of me for a spell. Anyway, he won’t get fresh 
with Mr. Haley again — nor none of the rest of 
’em.” 

“Dear me, Marty! it seems too bad that any of 
the boys should feel so unkindly toward Mr. Ha- 
ley, after all he’s done for them.” 

“They’re a poor lot — fellers like Sim Howell. 
Hang around the tavern boss sheds all the time. 
Can’t git ’em to come up to the Readin’ Room with 
the decent fellers,” Marty said belligerently. 

Marty had forgotten that — not so long before — 
he had been a frequenter of the tavern “boss sheds” 


Hopewell Sells His Violin 183 


himself. That was before Janice had started the 
Public Library Association and the boys’ club. 

Janice did not see Nelson that evening, and she 
wondered what he was doing with his idle time. 
So the following afternoon she came home by the 
Lower Road, meaning to call on the schoolmaster. 
She stopped her car before Hopewell Drugg’s store 
and ran in there first. 

’Rill was behind the counter; but from the back 
room the wail of the violin announced Hopewell’s 
presence. The lively tunes which the storekeeper 
had played so much through the Winter just past — 
such as “Jli^gl^ Bells” and '"Aunt Dinah’s Quilting 
Party” — seemed now forgotten. Nor was Hope- 
well in a sentimental mood and his old favorite, 
"Silver Threads Among the Gold,” could not ex- 
press his feelings. 

"Old Hundred” was the strain he played, and he 
drew it lingeringly out of the strings until it fairly 
rasped the nerves. No son of Israel, weeping 
against the wall in old Jerusalem, ever expressed 
sorrow more deeply than did Hopewell’s fiddle at 
the present juncture. 

"Oh, dear, Janice! that’s the way he is all day 
long,” whispered the bride, the tears sparkling in 
her eyes. "He says Lottie must go to Boston, and 
I guess he’s right. The poor little thing doesn’t 
see anywhere near as good as she did.” 


184 


How Janice Day Won 


“Oh, my dear!’’ cried Janice, under her breath. 
“I wish I could help pay for her trip.” 

“No. You’ve done your part, Janice. You paid 
for the treatment before ” 

“I only helped,” interrupted Janice. 

“It was a great, big help. Hopewell can never 
repay you,” said the wife. “And he can accept 
no more from you, dear.” 

“But I haven’t got it to offer!” almost wailed 
Janice. “Daddy’s mine is shut down again. I — I 
could almost wish to sell my car — only it was a par- 
ticular present from daddy ” 

“No, indeed! There is going to be something 
else sold, I expect,” ’Rill said gravely. “Here! let 
us go back. I don’t like even to see this fellow come 
in here. Hopewell must wait on him.” 

Janice turned to see Joe Bodley, the fat, smirking 
bartender from the Lake View Inn, now entering 
the store. 

“Afternoon, Mrs. Drugg!” he called after the 
storekeeper’s retreating wife. “I won’t bite ye.” 

“Mr. Drugg will be right in,” said ’Rill, beckon- 
ing Janice away. 

Hopewell entered, violin in hand. He greeted 
Janice in his quiet way and then spoke to Bodley. 

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Bodley?” 

“Now, how about that fiddle, Hopewell? D’ye 
really want to sell it?” asked the bartender, lightly. 


Hopewell Sells His Violin 185 


— I must sell it, Mr. Bodley. I feel that I 
must/^ said Hopewell, in his gentle way. 

‘^It’s as good as sold, then, old feller,’’ said the 
barkeeper. got a customer for it.” 

'‘Ah! but I must have my price. Otherwise it 
will do me no good to sell the violin which I prize 
so highly — and which my father played before me.” 

“That’s Yankee talk,” laughed Bodley. “How 
much ?” 

“I believe it is a valuable instrument — a very 
valuable instrument,” said poor Hopewell, evidently 
in fear of not making the sale, yet determined to 
obtain what he considered a fair price for it. “At 
least, I know it is an old violin.” 

“One of the ‘old masters,’ eh?” chuckled Bodley. 

“Perhaps. I do not think you will care to pay 
my price, sir,” said the storekeeper, with dignity. 

“I’ve got a customer for it. He seen it down to 
the dance — and he wants it. What’s your price?” 
repeated Bodley. 

“I thought some of sending it to New York to be 
valued,” Hopewell said slowly. 

“My man will buy it — sight unseen, as ye might 
say — on my recommend. He only saw it for a 
moment,” said Bodley. 

“What will he give for it?” asked Hopewell. 

“How much do you want?” 

“One hundred dollars, Mr. Bodley,” said the 
storekeeper, this time with more firmness. 


186 


How Janice Day Won 

'Whatf One hundred of your grandmother’s 
grunts! Why, Hopewell, there ain^t so much 
money — not in Polktown, at least — ’nless it’s hid 
away in a broken teapot on the top shelf of a cup- 
board in Elder Concannon’s house. They say he’s 
got the first dollar he ever earned, and most all that 
he’s gathered since that time.” 

Janice heard all this as she stood in the back 
room with ’Rill. Then, having excused herself 
to the storekeeper’s wife, she ran out of the side 
door to go across the street to Mrs. Beaseley’s. 

In fact, she could not bear to stay there and hear 
Hopewell bargain for the sale of his precious violin. 
It seemed too, too, bad ! It had been his comfort — 
his only consolation, indeed — for the many years 
that circumstances had kept him and ’Rill Scatter- 
good apart. And after all, to be obliged to dis- 
pose of it 

Janice remembered how she had brought little 
Lottie home to the storekeeper the very day she 
first met him, and how he had played “Silver 
Threads Among the Gold” for her in the dark, 
musty back room of the old store. Why! Hope- 
well Drugg would be utterly lost without the old 
fiddle. 

She was glad Mrs. Beaseley was rather an unob- 
servant person, for Janice’s eyes were tear-filled 
when she looked into the cottage kitchen. Nelson, 
however, was not at home. He had gone for a 


Hopewell Sells His Violin 187 


long tramp through the fields and had not yet re- 
turned. So, leaving word for him to come over to 
the Day house that evening, Janice went slowly 
back to her car. 

Before she could start it ’Rill ,came outside. 
Bodley had gone, and the storekeeper’s wife was 
frankly weeping. 

“Poor Hopewell! he’s sold the fiddle,” sobbed 
’Rill. 

“To that awful bartender?” demanded Janice. 

“Just as good as. The fellow’s paid a deposit on 
it. If he comes back with the rest of the hundred 
dollars in a month, the fiddle is his. Otherwise, 
Hopewell declares he will send it to New York 
and take what he can get for it.” 

“Oh, dear me!” murmured Janice, almost in 
tears, too. 

“It — it is all Hopewell can do,” pursued ’Rill. 
“Pie has nothing else on which he can raise the 
necessary money. Lottie must have her chance.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE GOLD COIN 

The campaign against liquor selling in Polktown 
really had been opened on that Monday morning 
when Janice and Frank Bowman conferred together 
near the scene of the young engineer’s activities for 
the railroad. 

The determination of two wide-awake young peo- 
ple to do something was the beginning of activities. 

Not only was the time ripe, but popular feel- 
ing was already stirred in the matter. The thought- 
ful people of Polktown were becoming dissatisfied 
with the experiment. Those who had considered 
it of small moment in the beginning were learning 
differently. If Polktown was to be ‘'boomed” 
through such disgraceful means as the sale of in- 
toxicants at the only hotel, these people with sud- 
denly awakened consciences would rather see the 
town lie fallow for a while longer. 

The gossip regarding Hopewell Drugg’s sup- 
posed fall from sobriety was both untrue and un- 
kind. That the open bar at Lem Parraday’s was a 
real and imminent peril to Polktown, however, was 
a fact now undisputed by the better citizens. 

188 


The Gold Coin 


189 


Janice had sounded Elder Concannon on that 
very Monday when she had brought him home 
from the Trimmins place. The old gentleman, al- 
though conservative to a fault where money was 
concerned — ^his money, or anybody’s — agreed that 
one or two men should not be allowed to benefit 
at the moral expense of their fellow townsmen. 

That the liquor selling was causing a festering 
sore in the community of Polktown could not be 
gainsaid. Sim Howell and two other boys in their 
early teens had somehow obtained liquor, and had 
been picked up in a frightful condition on the public 
street by Constable Poley Cantor. 

The boys were made very ill by the quantity of 
liquor they had drunk, and although they denied 
that they had bought the stuff at the hotel, it was 
soon learned that the supply of spirits the boys had 
got hold of, came from Lem Parraday’s bar. 

One of the town topers had purchased the half- 
gallon bottle and had hid it in a barn, fearing to 
take it home. The boys had found it and dared 
each other to taste the stuff. 

“It’s purty bad stuff ’at Lem sells, I allow, 
observed Walky Dexter. “No wonder it settled 
them boys. It’s got a 'kick’ to it wuss’n Josephus 
had that time the swarm of bees lit on him.” 

The town was ablaze with the story of the boys’ 
escapade on Wednesday afternoon when Janice 
came back from Middletown. She stopped at Hope- 


190 


How Janice Day Won 


well Drugg^ s store, which was a rendezvous for the 
male gossips of the town, and Walky was holding 
forth upon the subject uppermost in the public 
mind : 

“Them consarned lettle skeezicks — Fd ha' 
trounced the hull on 'em if they’d been mine.” 

“How would you have felt, Mr. Dexter, if they 
really were yours?” asked Janice, who had been 
talking to ’Rill and Nelson Haley. “Suppose Sim 
Howell were your boy? How would you feel to 
know that, at his age, he had been intoxicated ?” 

“Jefers-pelters !” grunted Walky. “I reckon I 
wouldn’t git pigeon-breasted with pride over it — ■ 
nossir!” 

“Then don’t make fun,” admonished the girl, 
severely. “It is an awful, awful thing that the boys 
of Polktown can even get hold of such stuff to make 
them so ill.” 

“That is right. Miss Janice,” Hopewell said, busy 
with a customer. “What else, Mrs. Massey?” 

“That’s all to-day, Hopewell. I hate to give 
you so big a bill, but that’s all I’ve got,” said the 
druggist’s wife, as she handed the store-keeper a 
twenty-dollar gold certificate. 

“He, he!” chuckled Walky, “Guess Massey wants 
all the change in town in his own till, heh?” 

“That is all right, Mrs. Massey,” said Hopewell, 
in his gentle way. “I can change it. Have to give 
you a gold piece — there.” 


The Gold Coin 


191 


‘‘What’s going to be done about this liquor sell- 
ing, anyway?” demanded Nelson Haley, in a much 
more serious mood, it would seem, than usual. “I 
think Janice has the right of it — although I did 
not think so at first. ‘Live and let live,’ is a good 
motto; but it is foolish to let a mad dog live in a 
community. Lem Parraday’s bar is certainly doing 
a lot of harm to innocent people.” 

Janice clapped her hands softly, and her eyes 
shone. The school teacher went on with increased 
warmth : 

“Polktown is really being vastly injured by the 
liquor selling. To think of those boys becoming in- 
toxicated — one of them of my school, too ” 

The young man halted suddenly in this speech. 
In his earnestness he had forgotten that it was his 
school no longer. 

“It is a disgraceful state of affairs,” ’Rill has- 
tened to say, kindly covering Nelson’s momentary 
confusion. 

But Janice beamed at the young man. “Oh, Nel- 
son ! I am delighted to hear you speak so. We are 
going to hold a temperance meeting — Mr. Mid- 
dler and I have talked it over. And I have obtained 
Elder Concannon’s promise to be one of those on 
the platform. Polktown must be waked up ” 

“What! Again? Haw! haw! haw!” burst out 
Walky. “Jefers-pelters, Janice Day! You’ve 


192 


How Janice Day Won 

abeout give Polktown insomnia already! I sh’d 
say our eyes was purty well opened ” 

''Yours are not, old fellow,^’ said Nelson, good- 
naturedly, but with marked earnestness, too. 
“You’re patronizing the barroom side of the hotel 
altogether more than is good for you, and if you 
don’t know it yourself, Walky, I feel myself enough 
your friend to tell you so.” 

“Nonsense ! nonsense !” returned the expressman, 
reddening a little, yet man enough to accept per- 
sonal criticism when he was so prone to criticizing 
other people. “What leetle I drink ain’t never goin’ 
ter hurt me.” 

“Nor anybody else?” asked Janice, softly, for she 
liked Walky and was sorry to see him go wrong. 
“How about your example, Walky?” 

“Shucks! Don’t talk ter me abeout ‘example.’ 
That’s alius the excuse of the weak-headed. If 
my example was goin’ ter hurt the boys, ev’ry one 
b’ them would wanter be th’ town expressman! 
Haw ! haw ! haw ! I ain’t never seen none o’ them 
tumblin’ over each other fer th’ chance’t ter cut me 
out on my job. An’ ’cause I chaw terbaccer, is 
ev’ry white-headed kid in town goin’ ter take up 
chawin’ as a habit ? 

“Jefers-pelters! I ’low if I had a boy o’ m’ own 
mebbe I’d be a lettle keerful how I used either licker, 
or terbaccer. But I hain’t. I got only one child, 
an’ she’s a female. I reckon I ain’t gotter worry 


The Gold Coin 


193 


about little Matildy bein' inflooenced either by her 
daddy’s chawin’, or his takin’ a snifter of licker on 
a cold day — I snum !” 

“Unanswerable logic, Walky,” said Nelson, with 
some scorn. “I’ve used the same myself. And it 
serves all right if one is utterly selfish. I thought 
that out after Janice, here, opened my eyes.” 

“You show me how my takin’ a drink ’casionally 
hurts anybody or anything else, an’, jefers-pelters! 
I’ll stop it mighty quick!” exclaimed the express- 
man, with some heat. 

“I shall hold you to that, Walky,” said Janice, 
quickly, interfering before there should be any 
further sharp discussion. 

“And,” muttered Nelson, “she’s as good as got 
you, Walky — she has that!” 

At the moment the door opened with a bang, and 
Mr. Massey plunged in. He was without a hat and 
wore the linen apron he always put on when he was 
compounding prescriptions in the back room of his 
shop. In his excitement his gray hair was ruffled 
up more like a cockatoo’s topknot than usual, and 
his eyes seemed fairly to spark. 

“Hopewell Drugg!” he exclaimed, spying the 
storekeeper. “Was my wife just in here?” 

“Hul-/c>/” ejaculated Walky Dexter. “Hopewell 
hasn’t been sellin’ her Paris green for buckwheat 
flour, has he? That would kinder be in your line, 
wouldn’t it, Massey?” 


194 


How Janice Day Won 


But the druggist paid the town humorist no at- 
tention. He hurried to the counter and leaned 
across it, asking his question for a second time. 

“Why, yes, she was here, Mr. Massey,” said 
Hopewell, puzzled. 

“She changed a bill with you, didn’t she ?” 

“Jefers-pelters! was it counterfeit?” put in 
Walky, drawing nearer. 

“A twenty dollar bill — yes, sir,” said the store- 
keeper. 

“Did you give her a gold piece — a ten dollar gold 
piece — ^in the change?” shot in Massey, his voice 
shaking. 

“Why—yes.” 

“Is this it ?” and the druggist slapped a gold coin 
down on the counter between them. 

Hopewell picked up the coin, turned it over in 
his hand, holding it close to his near-sighted eyes. 
Nothing could ever hurry Hopewell Drugg in 
speech. 

“Why — yes,” he said again. “I guess so.” 

“But look at the date, man!” shouted Massey. 
“Don’t you see the date on it ?” 

Amazed, Drugg repeated the date aloud, reading 
it carefully from the coin. “Why, yes, that’s the 
date, sir,” said the storekeeper. 

“Don’t ye know that’s one of the rarest issues 
of ten dollar coins in existence? Somethin’ hap- 


The Gold Coin 


195 


pened to the die; they only issued a few/^ Massey 
stammered. “WhereM you git it, Hopewell?’’ 

‘‘Why — why — Is it valuable?” asked Hopewell. 
“A rare coin, you say?” 

“Rare!” shouted Massey. “Yes, I tell ye! It’s 
rare. There ain’t but a few in existence. Mr. 
Hobart told me when he brought them coins over 
here that night. And he pointed one of them out 
to me in that collection. Where did you get this 
one, Hopewell — where’d you get it, I say?” 

And on completing the demand he turned sharply 
and stared with his blinking, red eyes directly at 
Nelson Haley. 


CHAPTER XX 


SUSPICIONS 

‘‘Why — why — 'why ” stammered Hopewell 

Drugg, and could say no more. 

The others had noted Massey’s accusing glance 
at the schoolmaster; but not even Walky Dexter 
commented upon it at the moment. 

“Come, Hopewell!” exclaimed the druggist; 
“where did you get it ?” 

“Where — where did I get the gold piece?” re- 
peated the storekeeper, weakly. 

“Yes. Who paid it in to you? Hi, man! surely 
you don’t think for a moment I accuse you of hav- 
ing stolen the coin collection — or having guilty 
knowledge of the theft?” 

“Oh, Mr. Massey! what are you saying?” cried 
the storekeeper’s wife. 

“The coins?” whispered Hopewell. “Is that one 
of them?” 

“Jefers-pelters !” ejaculated Walky. “Here’s a 
purty mess.” 

“Who gave it to you?” again demanded Mr. Mas- 
sey. 


196 


Suspicions 


197 


“Why, it would be hard to say offhand,” the 
storekeeper had sufficient wit to reply. 

“Oh, but Hopewell !” implored the druggist. 
“Don’t ye see what I am after? Stir yourself, man! 
Perhaps we are right on the trail of the thief — 
this is maybe a clue,” and he cast another glance 
at Nelson as though he feared the schoolmaster 
might try to slip out of the store if he did not 
watch him. 

Nelson came forward to the coimter. At first he 
had grown very red ; now he was quite pale and the 
look of scorn and indignation he cast upon the drug- 
gist might have withered that person at a time of 
less excitement. 

“I ran ’way up here the minute my wife gave 
me that gold piece, Hopewell,” Massey continued. 
“Don’t you remember how you came by it?” 

“He means, Mr. Drugg,” broke in Nelson, “that 
he suspects you got it from me. Now tell him, if 
you please: Have I passed a gold piece over your 
counter since the robbery — that piece, or any 
other ?” 

“Not — not to my knowledge, Mr. Haley,” the 
storekeeper said, shaking his head slowly. 

“Oh, Nelson!” gasped Janice, coming nearer and 
touching his arm lightly. 

The young man’s hands were clenched. He had a 
temper and it nearly mastered him now. But he 
had learned to control himself. Otherwise he could 


198 


How Janice Day Won 


never have been as successful as he was in handling 
his pupils. His eyes darted lightning at the drug- 
gist; but the latter was too excited to realize Nelson 
Haley’s mood. 

‘This fellow has been to the postmaster to try 
to discover if I bought my money-order the other 
day with gold coin; but the postmaster obeyed the 
rules of the Department and refused to answer. He 
and the other committeemen are doing every under- 
handed thing possible to injure me. Cross Moore 
even tried to get into my rooms to search my trunk 
— but Mrs. Beaseley threatened him with a broom. 

“It doesn’t surprise me that Mr. Massey should 
attempt in this way to find what he calls ‘a clue.’ 
The only clue he and his friends are looking for is 
something with which to connect me with the 
robbery.” 

Janice’s light touch on his arm again, stayed 
his wrathful words; but the druggist’s freckled 
face glowed — red under the young man’s gaze. 

“Wal!” he grunted, shortly, “we’re bound to 
look after our own skins — not after yours, Mr. 
Haley.” 

“I believe you!” exclaimed the schoolmaster in 
scorn, and turned away. 

“But, say, Hopewell, ye ain’t answered me yet,” 
went on Massey, again addressing the storekeeper. 

“Well — I couldn’t say offhand ” 

“Great goodness, Hopewell !” cried Massey, 


Suspicions 


199 


pounding his fist upon the counter for emphasis, 
‘‘you're the most exasperating critter. If this — 

this If Mr. Haley didn’t give you the coin, 

who didf' 

‘‘Why— I— I " 

Drugg was slow enough at best. Now he was 
indeed very irritating. He was not the man to 
allow anything he said to injure another, if he 
could help it. 

“Le’s see,” he continued; “I’ve had that gold 
piece sev’ral days. I am sure, of course, that Mr. 
Haley did not give it to me. No. Come to think 
of it ” 

“Well?” gasped Mr. Massey. 

“I do remember the transaction, now. It — it was 
give me as an option on my violin,” said Hopewell 
Drugg, with growing confidence. “Yes. I remem- 
ber now all about it.” 

“What’s that? Yer fiddle, Hopewell?” put in 
Dexter. “Ye ain’t goin’ ter sell yer fiddle?” 

“I must,” Hopewell said simply. “I accepted 
that ten dollar gold piece and two five dollar bills, 
as a payment upon it.” 

“Who from?” demanded Massey, sticking to his 
text, and that only. 

“Young Joe Bodley, of the Lake View Inn.” 

“Joe Bodley! Why, he was abed when them 
coins was stolen — I know that,” blurted out the 
druggist, very much disappointed. “Lem Parraday 


200 


How Janice Day Won 


’tends bar himself forenoons, for Joe’s alius up 
till past midnight. You know that, Walky.” 

‘"Ya-as — f’r sure,” agreed the expressman. ^‘But 
one o’ these here magazine deteckatiffs might be 
able ter hook up Joe with them missin’ coins, jes’ 
the same. Mebbe he’s a sernamb’list,” suggested 
Walky, with a sly grin. 

'‘A whatf demanded Massey, with a startled 
look. ‘‘He’s an Odd Feller, an’ a Son o’ Jethro. I 
don’t know what other ‘lodges he b’longs to.” 

“Jefers-pelters !” ejaculated Walky, “who’s talk- 
in’ about lodges? I mean mebbe Joe walks in his 
sleep. He might ha’ stole them coins when he was 
semamb’latin’ about ” 

The druggist snorted. “That’s some o’ your 
funny business, I s’pose, Walky Dexter. If you 
stood ter lose four hundred dollars you wouldn’t 
chuckle none about it. I’m bound.” 

“Mebbe that’s so,” admitted Walky. “But I 
dunno’s I’d go around suspectin’ everybody there 
was of stealin’ that money. Caesar’s wife — er was 
it his darter? — wouldn’t ’scape suspicion in your 
mind, Mr. Massey.” 

“By hickory!” exclaimed the exasperated drug- 
gist, “I’d suspect my own grandmother!” 

“Sure ye would — ef ye thought by so doin’ ye’d 
escape payin’ out four hundred dollars ! Hay ! haw ! 
haw!” laughed the expressman. “Ye ac’ right ful- 
lish, Massey. All sorts of money is passed over 


Suspicions 


201 


that bar. I seen a feller count out forty pennies 
there t’other day for a flask of whiskey : an’ I bet 
he’d either robbed his baby’s bank, or the mission- 
ary-fund box. Haw! haw! haw!” 

‘"You can laugh,” began the druggist, looking 
sour enough, when Walky broke in again: 

“Sure I can. It’s lucky I can, too. If I couldn’t 
laff at most of the folks that live in this town. I’d 
be tempted ter commit sooicide — ^that’s right ! And 
you air one of the most amusin’ of the lot, Massey. 
Them other committeemen run ye a dost second.” 

“Oh ! I can’t stop here and fool with you all day, 
Walky Dexter,” snapped the druggist, pretty well 
worked up by now. “I tell ye this gold piece is a 
clue ” 

“Mebbe,” said Walky. “Mebbe ’tis a clue. But 
I reckon it’s what them magazine deteckatifs call 
a blind clue. Haw! haw! haw! An’ afore ye git 
anywhere with it, it’ll proberbly go on crutches an’ 
be deef an’ dumb inter the bargain !” 

Massey did not look as though he enjoyed these 
gibes much. “I’ll go down an’ see Joe,” he grunted. 
“Mebbe he’ll know something about it.” 

“I hope you do not expect to find that I spent 
that ten dollar gold piece at the Inn bar,” said 
Nelson, bitterly. 

“Well! I’ll find out how it got into Joe’s hands,” 
growled Massey. 

“If Joe tells you,” chuckled Walky. “An’ do stop 


202 How Janice Day Won 

for yer hat, Massey. You'll ketch yer death o’ 
dampness.” 

The druggist had opened a fruitful subject for 
speculation. Those he left behind in the store 
were eagerly interested. Indeed, Janice and Nelson 
could not fail to be excited by the occurrence, and 
the latter rode home with Janice in the car to talk 
the matter over with Uncle Jason. 

“Of course,” the schoolmaster said, when the 
family was assembled in the sitting room of the 
old Day house, ''that gold piece may not be one 
of those stolen at all. There are plenty of ten 
dollar gold pieces in circulation.” 

“Not in Polktown!” exclaimed Uncle Jason. 

“And if we are to believe Mr. Massey,” added 
Janice, “there are not many ten dollar gold pieces 
of that particular date in existence.” 

“We don’t really know. Perhaps Massey is 
mistaken. We know he was excited,” said Nelson. 

“Hold hard, now,” advised Uncle Jason, “It’s 
a breach in their walls, nevertheless.” 

“How is that, Mr. Day ?” asked the schoolmaster. 

“Why, don’t you see?” said Uncle Jason, puffing 
on his pipe in some excitement. “They have opened 
th’ way for Doubt ter stalk in,” and he chuckled. 
“Them committeemen have been toller’ble sure — er 
they’ve said they was — it was you stole the money, 
Mr. Haley. If they can’t connect this coin with 
you at all, they’ll sartain sure be up a stump. 


Suspicions 


203 


And they air a-breakin’ down their own case against 
ye. I guess I’m lawyer enough ter see that.’" 

‘'Oh, goodness, Uncle Jason! So they will!” 
cried Janice. 

"But it does not seem reasonable that the person 
stealing the coins would spend one of them in Polk- 
town,” Nelson said slowly. 

"I dunno,” reflected Mr. Day. "I never did 
think that a thief had any medals fer good sense — 
nossir! He most alius leaves some openin’ so’s 
ter git caught.” 

"And if he spent the money at the tavern — and 
for liquor — of course he couldn't have good sense.” 

"I take ofif my hat to you on that point, Janice,” 
laughed Nelson. "I believe you are right.” 

"Ya-as, ain’t she?” Aunt Almira said proudly. 
"An’ our Janice has done suthin’ this time that’ll 
make Polktown put her on a ped-ped-es-tri-an ” 

" 'Pedestal,’ Maw !” giggled Marty. 

"Wal, never mind,” said the somewhat flurried 
Mrs. Day. "Mr. Middler said it. Mr. Haley, 
ye’d oughter hear all ’t Mr. Middler said about 
her this arternoon at the meet in’ of the Ladies’ 
Aid.” 

"Oh, Auntie !” murmured Janice, turning very 
red. 

"Go on, Maw, and tell us,” said Marty. "What 
did he say ?” and he grinned delightedly at his cous- 
in’s rosy face. 


204 How Janice Day Won 

‘*Sing her praises, Mrs. Day — do,” urged Nelson. 
“We know she deserves to have them sung.” 

“Wal ! I should say she did,” agreed Aunt ’Mira, 
proudly. “It’s her, the parson says, that’s re’lly at 
the back of this temp’rance movement that’s goin’ 
ter be inaugurated right here in Polktown. Nex’ 
Sunday he’s goin’ to give a sermon on temperance. 
He said ’at he was ashamed to feel that he — like 
the rest of us — was content ter drift along and do 
nothin' ’cept ter talk against rum selling, until Jan- 
ice began ter do somethin' ” 

“Now, Auntie!” complained the girl again. 

“Wall You started it — ye know ye did, Janice. 
They was talkin’ about holdin’ meetings, an’ pledge- 
signin’, and stirrin’ up the men folks ter vote nex’ 
Fall ter make Polktown so everlastin’ly dry that all 
the old topers, like Jim Namay, an’ Bruton Willis, 
an’ — an’ the rest of ’em, will jest natcherly wither 
up an’ blow away I I tell ye, the Ladies’ Aid is all 
worked up.” 

“I wonder, now,” said Uncle Jason, reflectively. 

“Ye wonder what, Jase Day?” demanded his 
spouse, with some warmth. 

“I wonder if it can be didf" returned Uncle 
Jason. “Lemme tell ye, rum sellin’ an’ rum drinkin’ 
is purty well rooted in Polktown. If Janice is 
a-goin’ ter stop th’ sale of licker here, she’s tackled 
purty consider ’ble of a job, lemme tell ye.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


WHAT WAS IN THE PAPER 

As the days passed it certainly looked as though 
Mr. Day was correct in his surmise about the diffi- 
culties of ‘'Janice’s job/' as he called it. The girl 
was earnestly talking to everybody whom she knew, 
especially to the influential men of Polktown, re- 
garding the disgraceful things that had happened in 
the lakeside hamlet since the bar had been opened 
at the Inn. And it was among these influential 
men that she found the most opposition to making 
Polktown ^^dry" instead of “wet.” 

She had thrown down her gauntlet at Mr. Cross 
Moore's feet, so she troubled no more about him. 
Janice realized that nobody was more politically 
powerful in Polktown than Mr. Moore. But she 
believed she could not possibly obtain him on the 
side of prohibition, so she did not waste her strength 
or time in trying. 

Not that Mr. Cross Moore was a drinking man 
himself. He was never known to touch either 
liquor or tobacco. He was just a hard-fisted, 
hard-hearted, shrewd and successful country poli- 
tician ; and there appeared to be no soft side to his 
205 


206 


How Janice Day Won 


character. Unless that side was exposed to his 
invalid wife. And nobody outside ever caught Mr. 
Moore displaying tenderness in particular to her, 
although he was known to spend much time with 
her. 

He had fought his way up in politics and in 
wealth, from very poor and small beginnings. From 
his birth in an ancient log cabin, with parents who 
were as poor and miserable as the Trimminses or 
the Narnays to being president of the Town Coun- 
cil and chairman of the School Committee, was a 
long stride for Mr. Cross Moore — and nobody ap- 
preciated the fact more clearly than himself. 

Money had been the best friend he had ever had. 
Without Elder Concannon’s streak of acquisitive- 
ness in his character that made the good old man 
almost miserly, Mr. Cross Moore possessed the 
money-getting ability, and a faith in the creed that 
‘‘Wealth is Power” that nothing had yet shaken 
in his long experience. 

For a number of years Polktown had been free 
of any public dram-selling, although the voters had 
not put themselves on record as desiring prohibi- 
tion. Occasionally a more or less secret place for the 
selling of liquor had risen and was quickly put down. 
There had, in the opinion of the majority of the 
citizens, been no call for a drinking place, and there 
would probably have been no such local demand 
had Lem Parraday — ^backed by Mr. Moore, who 


What Was In the Paper 


207 


held the mortgage on the Inn — not desired to in- 
crease the profits of that hostelry. The license 
was taken out that visitors to Polktown might be 
satisfied. 

There had been no local demand for the sale of 
liquor, as has been said. Those who made a prac- 
tise of using it could obtain all they wished at 
Middletown, or other places near by. But once 
having allowed the traffic a foothold in the hamlet, 
it would he hard to dislodge it. 

John Barleycorn is fighting for his life. He has 
few real friends, indeed, among his consumers. 
No man knows better the danger of alcohol than 
the man who is addicted to its use — until he gets 
to that besotted stage where his brain Is so be- 
fuddled that his opinion would scarcely be taken 
in a court of law on any subject. 

Janice Day was determined not to listen to these 
temporizers in Polktown who professed themselves 
satisfied if the license was taken away from the 
Lake View Inn. Something more drastic was 
needed than that. 

‘The business must be voted out of town. We 
all must take a stand upon the question — on one side 
or the other,” the girl had said earnestly, in dis- 
cussing this point with Elder Concannon. 

“If you only shut up this bar, another license, 
located at some other point, will be asked for. 


208 


How Janice Day Won 


Each time the fight will have to be begun again. 
Vote the town dry — that is the only way” 

“Well, I reckon that’s true enough, my girl,” 
said the cautious elder. “But I doubt if we can do 
it. They’re too strong for us.” 

“We can try,” Janice urged. “You don’t know 
that the wets will win, Elder.” 

“And if we try the question in town meeting 
and get beaten, we’ll be worse off than we are now.” 

“Why shall we?” Janice demanded. “And, be- 
sides, I do not believe the wets can carry the day.” 

“I’m afraid the idea of making the town dry isn’t 
popular enough,” pursued the elder. 

“Why not?” 

“We are Vermonters,” said Elder Con cannon, 
as though that were conclusive. “We’re sons of 
the Green Mountain Boys, and liberty is greater 
to us than to any other people in the world.” 

“Including the liberty to get drunk — and the chil- 
dren to follow the example of the grown men?” 
asked Janice, tartly. “Is that liberty so precious?” 

“That’s a harsh saying, Janice,” said the old 
man, wagging his head. 

“It’s the truth, just the same,” the girl declared, 
with doggedness. 

“You can’t make the voters do what you want — 
not always,” said Elder Concannon. “I don’t want 
to see liquor sold here; but I think we’ll be more 
successful if we oppose each license as it comes up.” 


What Was In the Paper 


209 


‘‘What chance had you to oppose Lem Parraday’s 
license?” demanded the girl, sharply. 

“Well! I allow that was sprung on us sudden. 
But Cross Moore was interested in it, too.” 

“Somebody will always be particularly interested 
in the granting of the license. I believe with 
Uncle Jason that it’s foolish to give Old Nick a 
fair show. He does not deserve the honors of 
war.” 

More than Elder Concannon did not believe that 
Polktown could be carried for prohibition in Town 
Meeting. But election day was months ahead, and 
if “keeping everlastingly at it” would bring success, 
Janice was determined that her idea should be 
adopted. 

Mr. Middler’s first sermon on temperance was in 
no uncertain tone. Indeed, that good man’s dis- 
courses nowadays were very different from those 
he had been wont to give the congregation of the 
Union Church when Janice had first come to Polk- 
town. In the old-fashioned phrase, Mr. Middler 
had “found liberty.” 

There was nothing sensational about his sermons. 
He was a drab man, who still hesitated before 
uttering any very pronounced view upon any sub- 
ject; but he thought deeply, and even that super- 
critic, Elder Concannon, had begun to praise the 
pastor of the Union Church. 

To start the movement for prohibition in the larg- 


210 


How Janice Day Won 


est church in the community was all very well ; but 
Janice and the other earnest workers realized that 
the movement must be broader than that. A gen- 
eral meeting was arranged in the Town House, the 
biggest assembly room in town, and speakers were 
secured who were really worth hearing. All this 
went on quite satisfactorily. Indeed, the first tem- 
perance rally was a pronounced success, and white 
ribbons became common in Polktown, worn by both 
young and old. 

But Janice’s and Nelson Haley’s private affairs 
remained in a most unsatisfactory state indeed. 

First of all, there was a long month to wait be- 
fore Janice could expect to see another letter from 
daddy. It puzzled her that he was forbidden to 
write but once in thirty days, by an under lieutenant 
of the Zapatist chief, Juan Dicampa, who was Mr. 
Day’s friend — or supposed to be, and yet the let- 
ters came to her readdressed in Juan Dicampa’s 
hand. 

She watched the daily papers, too, for any word 
printed regarding the chieftain, and perhaps never 
was a brigand’s well-being so heartily prayed for, 
as was Juan Dicampa’s. Janice never forgot that 
her father said Dicampa stood between him and al- 
most certain death. 

Considering Nelson Haley’s affairs, that young 
man was quite impatient because they had come to 


What Was In the Paper 211 

no head. Nor did it seem that they were likely to 
soon. 

Nelson had secretly objected when Uncle Jason 
had asked Judge Little to put off for a full week 
the examination of Nelson in his court. The un- 
fortunate schoolmaster felt that he wanted the 
thing over and the worst known immediately. 

But it seemed that he was neither to be ac- 
quitted at once of the crime charged against him, 
nor was he to be found guilty and punished. 

Uncle Jason was right about the turning up of 
the ten dollar gold piece being a blow to the ac- 
cusation the School Committee had lodged against 
Nelson. They could not connect the young school- 
master with the gold coin. 

By Uncle Jason’s advice, too. Nelson had put off 
engaging a lawyer in Middletown to come over to 
defend the young man in Judge Little’s court. 

‘‘And well he did wait, too,” declared Mr. Day, 
very much pleased with his own shrewdness. ^‘That 
would have meant a twenty dollar note. Now it 
don’t cost Mr. Haley a cent.” 

“What do you mean, Jase Day?” demanded 
Aunt Almira, for her husband annoimced the above 
at the supper table on Friday evening of that event- 
ful week. “They ain’t goin’ ter send Mr. Haley to 
jail without a trial?” 

“Hear the woman, will ye ?” apostrophized Uncle 
Jason, with disgust. “Ain’t thet jes’ like ye, Almiry 


212 


How Janice Day Won 

— goin’ off at ha’f cock thet-a-way? Who said 
anythin’ about Mr. Haley goin’ ter jail?” 

“Wal ” 

‘‘He ain’t goin’ yet awhile, I reckon,” and Mr. 
Day chuckled. “I told ye them fule committeemen 
would overreach themselves. They’ve withdrawn 
the charge.” 

*'Whatf” chorused the family, in joy and amaze- 
ment. 

“Yessir! that’s what they’ve done. Jedge Little 
sent word to me an’ give me back my bond. ’Course, 
we could ha’ demanded a bearin’ an’ tried ter git a 
clear discharge. And then ag’in — Wal! I advised 
Mr. Haley ter let well enough alone.” 

“Then they know who is the thief at last?” 
asked Janice, quaveringly. 

“No.” 

“But they know Mr. Haley never stole them 
coins!” cried Aunt Almira. 

“Wal — ef they do, they don’t admit of it,” 
drawled Uncle Jason. 

“What in tarnation is it, then. Dad?” demanded 
Marty. 

“Why, they’ve made sech a to-do over findin’ 
that gold piece in Hope Drugg’s possession, that 
they don’t dare go on an’ prosercute the school- 
master — nossir !” 

“Bully!” exclaimed the thoughtless Marty. 
“That’s all right, then.” 


What Was In the Paper 


213 


“But — but,” objected Janice, with trembling lip, 
“that doesn’t clear Nelson at all !” 

“It answers the puppose,” proclaimed Uncle 
Jason. “He ain’t under arrest no more, and he 
don’t hafter pay no lawyer’s fee.” 

“Ye-es,” admitted his niece, slowly. “But what 
is poor Nelson to do? He’s still under a cloud, 
and he can’t teach school.” 

“And believe me !” growled Marty, “that greeny 
they got to teach in his place don’t scu’cely know 
beans when the bag’s untied.” 

It was true that the four committeemen had 
considered it wise to withdraw their charge against 
Nelson Haley. Without any evidence but that of a 
purely presumptive character, their lawyer had 
advised this retreat. 

Really, it was a sharp trick. It left Nelson worse 
off, as far as disproving their charge went, than 
he would have been had they taken the case into 
court. The charge still lay against the young man 
in the public mind. He had no opportunity of being 
legally cleared of suspicion. 

The ancient legal supposition that a man is in- 
nocent until he is found guilty, is never honored 
in a New England village. He is guilty unless 
proved innocent. And how could Nelson prove his 
innocence? Only by discovering the real thief and 
proving him guilty. 

The shrewd attorney hired by the four com- 


214 


How Janice Day Won 


mitteemen knew very well that he was not pre- 
judicing his clients’ case when he advised them to 
quash the warrant. 

But as for the discovery of the rare coin in 
circulation — one known to belong to the collection 
stolen from the schoolhouse — that injured the com- 
mitteemen’s cause rather than helped it, it must be 
confessed. 

Joe Bodley frankly admitted having paid over 
the gold piece to Hopewell Drugg, as a deposit 
on the fiddle. But he professed not to know how 
the coin had come into the till at the tavern. 

Joe had full charge of the cash-drawer when Mr. 
Parraday was not present, and he had helped him- 
self to such money as he thought he would need 
when he went up town to negotiate for the purchase 
of the fiddle. He denied emphatically that the man 
who had engaged him to purchase the fiddle had 
given him the ten dollar gold piece. Who the 
purchaser of the fiddle was, however, the barkeeper 
declined to say. 

‘That’s my business,” Joe had said, when ques- 
tioned on this point. “Ya-as. I expect to take the 
fiddle. Hopewell’s agreed to sell it to me, fair and 
square. If I can make a lettle spec on the side, 
who’s business is it but my own?” 

When Janice heard the report of this — through 
Walky Dexter, of course — she was reminded of 
the black-haired, foreign looking man, who had 


What Was In the Paper 


215 


been so much interested in Hopewell’s violin the 
night she and Frank Bowman had taken the store- 
keeper home from the dance. 

"‘I wonder if he can be the customer that Joe 
Bodley speaks of? Oh, dear me!” sighed Janice. 
'‘I’m so sorry Hopewell has to sell his violin. And 
Fm sorry he is going to sell it this way. If that 
‘foxy looking foreigner,’ as Mr. Bowman called 
him, is the purchaser of the instrument, perhaps 
it is worth much more than a hundred dollars. 

“Lottie must go again and have her eyes ex- 
amined. Hopewell will take her himself next month 
— the poor, dear little thing! Oh! if daddy’s mine 
wasn’t down there among those hateful Mexi- 
cans — 

“And I wonder,” added the young girl, suddenly, 
“what one of those real old violins is worth.” 

She chanced to be reflecting on this subject on 
a Saturday afternoon near the end of the month 
Hopewell had allowed to Joe Bodley to find the rest 
of the purchase price for the violin. She had been 
up to the church vestry to attend a meeting of her 
Girls’ Guild. As she passed the Public Library 
this thought came to her: 

“I’ll go in and look in the encyclopaedia. Tlmt 
ought to tell about old violins.” 

She looked up Cremona and read about its won- 
derful violins made in the sixteenth, seventeenth, 
and eighteenth centuries by the Amati family and 


216 


How Janice Day Won 


by Antonio Stradivari and Josef Guarnerius. It 
did not seem possible that Hopewell’s instrument 
could be one of these beautifully wrought violins 
of the masters; yet 

“Who knows?” sighed Janice. “You read about 
such instruments coming to light in such queer 
places. And Hopewell’s fiddle looks awfully old. 
From all accounts his father must have been a 
musician of some importance, despite the fact that 
he was thought little of in Polktown by either his 
wife or other people. Mr. Drugg might have owned 
one of these famous violins — not one of the most 
ancient, perhaps — and told nobody here about it. 
Why! the ordinary Polktownite would think just 
as much of a two-dollar-and-a-half fiddle as of a 
real Stradivarius or an Amati.” 

While she was at the task, Janice took some 
notes of what she read. While she was about this, 
Walky Dexter, who brought the mail over from 
Middletown, daily, came in with the usual bundle 
of papers for the reading desk, and the girl in charge 
that afternoon hastened to put the papers in the 
files. 

Major Price had presented the library with a 
year’s subscription to a New York daily. Janice 
or Marty always found time to scan each page of 
that paper for Mexican news — especially for news 
of the brigand chief, Juan Dicampa. 

She went to the reading desk after closing and re- 


What Was In the Paper 


217 


turning the encyclopaedia to its proper shelf, and 
spread the New York paper before her. This day 
she had not to search for mention of her father’s 
friend, the Zapatist chief. Right in front of her 
eyes, at the top of the very first column, were these 
headlines : 

JUAN DICAMPA CAPTURED 

The Zapatist Chieftain Captured By Fed- 
ERALS With 500 of His Force and 
Immediately Shot. Massacre 
OF His Followers. 


CHAPTER XXII 


DEEP WATERS 

The dispatch in the New York paper was dated 
from a Texan city on the day before. It was brief, 
but seemed of enough importance to have the place 
of honor on the front page of the great daily. 

There were all the details of a night advance, a 
bloody attack and a fearful repulse in which 
General Juan Dicampa’s force had been nearly 
wiped out. 

The half thousand captured with the famous 
guerrilla chief were reported to have been hacked 
to pieces when they cried for quarter, and Juan 
Dicampa himself was given the usual short shrift 
connected in most people’s minds with Mexican 
justice. He had been shot three hours after his 
capture. 

It was an awful thing — and awful to read about. 
The whole affair had happened a long way from 
that part of Chihuahua in which daddy’s mine was 
situated; but Janice immediately realized that the 
“long arm” of Dicampa could no longer keep Mr. 
Broxton Day from disaster, or punish those who 
offended the American mining man. 

218 


Deep Waters 


219 


The very worst that could possibly happen to 
her father, Janice thought, had perhaps already 
happened. 

That was a very sorrowful evening indeed at the 
old Day house on Hillside Avenue. Although Mr. 
Jason Day and Janice’s father were half brothers 
only, the elder man had in his heart a deep and 
tender love for Broxton, or ‘"Brocky,” as he called 
him. 

He remembered Brocky as a lad — always. He 
felt the superiority of his years — and presumably 
his wisdom — over the younger man. Despite the 
fact that Mr. Broxton Day had early gone away 
from Polktown, and had been deemed very suc- 
cessful in point of wealth in the Middle West, 
Uncle Jason considered him still a boy, and his 
ventures in business and in mining as a species of 
‘Vild oat sowing,” of which he could scarcely ap- 
prove. 

'‘No,” he sighed. "If Brocky had been more set- 
tled he’d ha’ been better off — I snum he would! 
A piece o’ land right here back o’ Polktown — or a 
venture in a store, if so be he must trade' — would 
ha’ been safer for him than a slather o’ mines down 
there among them Mexicaners.” 

"Don’t talk so — don’t talk so, Jason!” sniffed 
Aunt Almira. 

"Wal — it’s a fac’,” her husband said vigorously. 
"There may be some danger attached ter store 


220 


How Janice Day Won 


keepin’ in Polktown; it’s likely ter make a man a 
good deal of a hawg/' added Uncle Jason. “But I 
guess the life insurance rates ain’t so high as they 
be on a feller that’s determined ter spend his time 
t’other side o’ that Rio Grande River they tell 
about.” 

“I wonder,” sighed Aunt Almira, quite uncon- 
scious that she spoke aloud, “if I kin turn that 
old black alpaca gown I got when Sister Susie 
died, Jason, an’ fashion it after one o’ the new 
models?” 

“Heh?” grunted the startled Mr. Day, glaring 
at her. 

“Of course, we’ll hafter go inter black — it’s only 
decent. But I did fancy a plum-colored dress this 
Spring, with r’yal purple trimmins. I seen a pat- 
tern in the fashion sheet of the Fireside Love Letter 
that was re’l sweet.” 

“What’s eatin’ on you. Maw?” demanded her 
son gruffly. “Whatcher wanter talk that way for 
right in front of Janice? I reckon we won’t none 
of us put on crepe for Uncle Brocky yet awhile,” 
he added, stoutly. 

On Monday arrived another letter from Mr, 
Broxton Day. Of course, it was dated before 
the dreadful night attack which had caused the 
death of General Juan Dicampa and the destruction 
of his forces ; and it had passed through that chief- 
tain’s hands and had been remailed. 


Deep Waters 


221 


Janice put away the envelope, directed in the slop^ 
ing, clerkly hand, and sighed. Daddy was in per- 
fect health when he had written this last epistle and 
the situation had not changed. 

‘^But no knowing what has happened to poor 
daddy since he wrote,’' thought Janice. ‘‘We can 
know nothing about it. And another whole month 
to wait to learn if he is alive.” 

The girl was quite well aware that she could 
expect no inquiry to be made at Washington re- 
garding Mr. Broxton Day’s fate. The administra- 
tion had long since warned all American citizens to 
leave Mexico and to refrain from interference in 
Mexican affairs. Mr. Day had chosen to stay by 
his own, and his friends’, property — and he had 
done this at his peril. 

“Oh, I wish,” thought the girl, “that somebody 
could go down there and capture daddy, and just 
make him come back over the border! As Uncle 
Jason says, what’s money when his precious life 
is in danger?” 

In almost the same breath, however, she wished 
that daddy could send her more money. For Lottie 
Drugg had gone to Boston. Her father had given 
over the violin to Joe Bodley, and that young specu- 
lator paid the storekeeper the remainder of the 
hundred dollars agreed upon. With this hundred 
dollars Hopewell started for Boston with Lottie, 
leaving his wife to take care of the store for the 


222 


How Janice Day Won 


few (lays he expected to be absent. Janice went 
over to stay with Mrs. Drugg at night during Hope- 
well’s absence. 

Perhaps it was just as well that Janice was not 
at home during these few days, as it gave her some- 
body’s troubles besides her own to think about. And 
the Day household really, if not visibly, was in 
mourning for Broxton Day. Uncle Jason’s face 
was as “long as the moral law,” and Aunt ’Mira, 
lachrymose at best, was now continuously and 
deeply gloomy. Marty was the only person in 
the Day household able to cfieer Janice in the least. 

’Rill and Hopewell were in deep waters, too. 
Had Lottie not been such an expense, the little 
store on the side street would have made a very 
comfortable living for the three of them. They 
lived right up to their income, however; and so 
Hopewell was actually obliged to sell his violin to 
get Lottie to Boston. 

Mrs. Scattergood was frequently in the store now 
that her son-in-law was away. She was, of course, 
ready with her criticisms as to the course of her 
daughter and her husband. 

“Good Land o’ Goshen!” chirped the little old 
woman to Janice, “didn’t I alius say it was the 
fullishest thing ever heard of for them two to 
marry? Amarilly had alius aimed good money 
teachin’ and had spent it as she pleased. And Hope 


Deep Waters 


223 


Drugg never did aim much more’n the salt in his 
johnny-cake in this store.’’ 

Meanwhile she was helping herself to sugar and 
tea and flour and butter and other little “notions” 
for her own comfort. Hopewell always said that 
“Mother Scattergood should have the run of the 
store, and take what she pleased,” now that he had 
married ’Rill; and, although the woman was not 
above maligning her easy-going son-in-law, she 
did not refuse to avail herself of his generosity. 

“An’ there it is!” went on Mrs. Scattergood. 
“ ’Rill was fullish enough to put the money she’d 
saved inter a mortgage that pays her only five per 
cent. An’ ter git th’ int’rest is like pullin’ eye- 
teeth, and I tell her she never will see the principal 
ag’in.” 

Mrs. Scattergood neglected to state that she had 
urged her daughter to put her money in this mort- 
gage. It was on her son’s farm, across the lake 
at “Skunk’s Hollow,” as the place was classically 
named; and the money would never have been tied 
up in this way had her mother not begged and 
pleaded and fairly “hounded” ’Rill into letting the 
shiftless brother have her savings on very uncertain 
security. 

“Them two marryin’,” went on Mrs. Scatter- 
good, referring to ’Rill and Hopewell, “was for all 
the worl’ like Famine weddin’ with Poverty. And 
a very purty weddin’ that alius is,” she added with 


224 


How Janice Day Won 

a sniff. ‘‘Neither of ’em ain’t got nothin’, nor never 
will have — ’ceptin’ that Hopewell’s got an encum- 
brance in the shape of that ha’f silly child.” 

Janice was tempted to tell the venomous old 
woman that she thought Hopewell’s only encum- 
brance was his mother-in-law. 

“And him fiddlin’ and drinkin’ and otherwise 
wastin’ his substance,” croaked Mrs. Scattergood. 

At this Janice did utter an objection: 

“Now, that is not so, Mrs. Scattergood. You 
know very well that that story about Hopewell be- 
ing a drinking man is not true.” 

“My! is that so? Didn’t I see him myself? And 
you seen him, too, Janice Day, cornin’ home that 
night, a wee- wa win’ like a boat in a heavy sea. I 
guess I see what I see. And as for his fiddlin’ ” 

“You need not be troubled on that score, at least,” 
sighed Janice. “Poor Hopewell! He’s sold his 
violin.” 

Walky Dexter came into the store that same 
evening, chuckling over the sale of the instrument. 

“I wouldn’t go for ter say Hopewell is a sharper,” 
he grinned; “but mebbe he ain’t so powerful in- 
nercent as he sometimes ’pears. If so. I’m sartainly 
glad of it.” 

“What do you mean, Mr. Dexter?” asked ’Rill, 
rather sharply. 

“Guess Joe Bodley feels like he’d like ter know 
whether Hopewell done him or not. Joe’s condition 


Deep Waters 


225 


is suthin’ like the snappin’ turtle’s when he cotched 
a-holt of Peleg Swift’s red nose as he was stoopin’ 
ter git a drink at the spring. He didn’t durst ter 
let go while Peke was runnin’ an’ yellin’ ‘Murder!’ 
but he was mighty sorry ter git so fur from home. 
Haw! haw! haw!” 

“What is the matter with Joe Bodley now, 
Walky?” asked Nelson, who was present. “Didn’t 
he make a good thing out of the violin transaction?” 

“Why — haw ! haw ! — ^he dunno yit. But I b’lieve 
he’s beginnin’ ter have his doubts — like th’ feller 
’t got holt of the black snake a-thinkin’ it was a 
heifer’s tail,” chuckled Walky, whose face was very 
red and whose spicy breath — Joe Bodley always 
kept a saucer of cloves on the end of the bar — was 
patent to all in the store. 

“Joe’s a good sport; he ain’t squealin’ none,” 
pursued Dexter; “but there is the fiddle a-hangin’ 
behint th’ bar an’ Joe’s beginnin’ ter look mighty 
sour when ye mention it to him.” 

“Why, Mr. Dexter!” ’Rill said, in surprise, 
“hasn’t he turned it over to the man he said he 
bought it for?” 

“Wal — not so’s ye’d notice it,” Walky replied, 
grinning fatuously. “I dunno who the feller is, or 
how much money he gin Joe in the fust place to 
help pay for the fiddle — some, of course. But if 
Joe paid Hopewell a hundred dollars for the thing 


226 How Janice Day Won 

you kin jest bet he ’spected to git ha’f as much 
ag’in for it. 

“But I reckon the feller^s reneged or suthin’. 
Joe ain’t happy about it — he! he! Mebbe on dost 
examination the fiddle don’t ’pear ter be one o’ 
them old masters they tell about! Haw! haw! 
haw !” 

Janice started to say something. “Why don’t 
they look inside ” 

“Inside o’ what?” demanded Walky, when the 
girl halted. 

“I am positive that Hopewell would never have 
sold it for a hundred dollars if he hadn’t felt he 
must,” broke in the storekeeper’s wife, and Janice 
did not complete her impulsive observation. 

“Ye can’t most alius sometimes tell!” drawled 
Walky. “Mebbe Hopewell had suthin’ up his 
sleeve ’sides his wrist. Haw! haw! haw! 

“Shucks! talk about a fiddle bein’ wuth a hun- 
derd dollars! Jefers-pelters! I seen one a-hangin’ 
in a shop winder at Bennington once ’t looked every 
whit as good as Hopewell’s, and as old, an’ ’twas 
marked plain on a card, ‘two dollars an’ a ha’f.’ ” 

“I guess there are fiddles and Uddles/' said ’Rill, 
a little tartly for her. 

“No,” laughed Nelson. “There are fiddles and 
violins. Like the word ‘vase.’ If it’s a cheap one, 
plain ‘vase’ is well enough to Indicate it; but if it 
costs over twenty-five dollars they usually call it 


Deep Waters 


227 


a ‘vahze/ I have always believed Hopewell's in- 
strument deserved the dignity of ‘violin.' " 

“Wal," declared Walky. “I guess ye kin have 
all the dignity, and the vi’lin, too, if you offer Joe 
what he paid for it. I don't b’lieve he'll hang off 
much for a profit — er — haw! haw! haw!" 

“I wish I were wealthy enough to buy the violin 
back from that fellow," whispered Janice to the 
schoolmaster. 

“Ah! I expect you do, Janice," he said softly, 
eyeing her with admiration. “And I wish I could 
give you the money to do so. It would give you 
more pleasure, I fancy, to hand Hopewell back his 
violin when he returns from Boston than almost 
anything we could name. Wouldn't it?" 

“Oh, dear me! yes. Nelson," she sighed. “I 
just wish I were rich." 

Just about this time there were a number of 
things Janice desired money for. She had a little 
left in the bank at Middletown; but she dared 
not use it for anything but actual necessities. No 
telling when daddy could send her any more for 
her own private use. Perhaps, never. 

The papers gave little news of Mexican troubles 
just now. Of course, Juan Dicampa being dead, 
there was no use watching the news columns for 
his name. 

And daddy was utterly buried from her! She 
had no means of informing herself whether he 


228 


How Janice Day Won 


were alive or dead. She wrote to him faithfully 
at least once each week; but she did not know 
whether the letters reached him or not. 

As previously advised, she addressed the outer 
envelope for her father’s letters in care of Juan 
Dicampa. But that seemed a hollow mockery now. 
She was sending the letters to a dead man. 

Was it possible that her father received the mis- 
sives? Could Juan Dicampa’s influence, now that 
he was dead, compass their safety? It seemed 
rather a ridiculous thing to do, yet Janice continued 
to send them in care of the guerrilla chieftain. 

Indeed, Janice Day was wading in deep waters. 
It was very diflicult for her to carry a cheerful face 
about during this time of severe trial. 

But she threw herself, whole-heartedly, into the 
temperance campaign, and strove to keep her mind 
from dwelling upon her father’s peril. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


JOSEPHUS COMES OUT FOR PROHIBITION 

It was wnue Janice was staying with Mrs. Hope- 
well Drugg during the storekeeper’s absence in 
Boston, that she met Sophie Narnay on the street. 

The child looked somewhat better as to dress, 
for Janice had found her some frocks weeks be- 
fore, and Mrs. Narnay had utilized the gifts to the 
very best advantage. But the poor little thing was 
quite as hungry looking as ever. 

‘'Oh, Miss Janice!” she said, ‘T wish you’d come 
down to see our baby. She’s ever so much worse’n 
she was. I guess 'twas a good thing ’at we never 
named her. ’T would jest ha’ been a name wasted.” 

"Oh, dear, Sophie! is she as bad as all that?” 
cried Janice. 

"Yep,” declared the child. 

"Can’t the doctor help her?” 

"He’s come a lot — an’ he’s been awful nice. 
Mom says she didn’t know there was such good 
folks in the whole work as him an’ you. But there’s 
somethin’ the matter with the baby that no doctor 
kin help, so he says. An’ I guess he’s got the 
rights of it,” concluded Sophie, in her old-fashioned 
way. 


229 


230 


How Janice Day Won 


will certainly come down and see the poor 
little thing,” promised Janice. “And your mamma 
and Johnnie and Eddie. Is your father at home 
now ?” 

“Nop. He’s up in Concannon’s woods yet. 
They’ve took a new contrac’ — ^him and Mr. Trim- 
mins. An’ mebbe it’ll last all Summer. Dear me! 
I hope so. Then pop won’t be home to drink up all 
the money mom earns.” 

“I will come down to-morrow,” Janice promised, 
for she was busy just then and could not accom- 
pany Sophie to Pine Cove. 

This was Saturday afternoon and Janice was on 
her way to the steamboat dock to see if certain 
freight had arrived by the Constance Colfax for 
Hopewell Drugg’s store. She was doing all she 
could to help ’Rill conduct the business while the 
storekeeper was away. 

During the week she had scarcely been home to 
the Day house at all. Marty had run the car over 
to the Drugg place in the morning in time for her 
to start for Middletown; and in the afternoon her 
cousin had come for the Kremlin and driven it 
across town to the garage again. 

This Saturday she would not use the car, for she 
wished to help ’Rill, and Marty had taken a party 
of his boy friends out in the Kremlin. Marty had 
become a very efficient chauffeur now and could be 
trusted, so his father said, not to try to hurdle 


Josephus Comes Out for Prohibition 231 

the stone walls along the way, or to make the 
automobile climb the telegraph poles. 

‘‘Marm” Parraday was sweeping the front porch 
and steps of the Lake View Inn. Although the 
Inn had become very well patronized now, the 
tavernkeeper’s vigorous wife was not above doing 
much of her own work. 

''Oh, Janice Day! how be ye?” she called to the 
girl. "I don’t see ye often,” and Mrs. Parraday 
smiled broadly upon her. 

As Janice came nearer she saw that Marm Parra- 
day did not look as she once did. Her hair had 
turned very gray, there were deeper lines in her 
weather-beaten face, and a trembling of her lips 
and hands made Janice’s heart ache. 

If the Inn was doing well and Lem Parraday was 
prospering, his wife seemed far from sharing in the 
good times that appeared to have come to the Lake 
View Inn. 

The great, rambling house had been freshened 
with a coat of bright paint; the steps and porch and 
porch railings were mended; the sod was green; 
the flower gardens gay ; the gravel of the walks and 
driveway freshly raked; while the round boulders 
flanking the paths were brilliant with whitewash. 

"Why!” said Janice honestly, "the old place never 
looked so nice before, Mrs. Parraday. You have 
done wonders this Spring. I hope you will have a 
prosperous season.” 


232 


Flow Janice Day Won 


Mrs. Parraday clutched the girl’s arm tightly. 
Janice saw that her eyes seemed quite wild in their 
expression as she pointed a trembling finger at the 
gilt sign at the corner of the house, lettered with 
the single word: ‘"Bar.” 

''With that sign a-swingin’ there, Janice Day?” 
she whispered. "You air wishin’ us prosperity 
whilst Lem sells pizen to his feller men?” 

"Oh, Mrs. Parraday! I was not thinking of the 
liquor selling,” said Janice sympathetically. 

"Ye’d better think of it, then,” pursued the 
tavernkeeper’s wife. "Ye’d better think of it, day 
and night. That’s what I do. I git on my knees 
and pray ’t Lem won’t prosper as long as that bar 
room’s open. I do it ’fore Lem himself. He says 
I’m a-tryin’ ter pray the bread-and-butter right 
aout’n aour mouths. He’s so mad at me he won’t 
sleep in the same room an’ has gone off inter the 
west wing ter sleep by hisself. But I don’t keer,” 
cried Mrs. Parraday wildly. "Woe ter him that 
putteth the cup to his neighbor’s lips ! That’s what 
I tell him. 'Wine is a mocker — strong drink is 
ragin’.’ That’s what the Bible says. 

"An’ Lem — a perfessin’ member of Mr. Mid- 
dler’s church — an’ me attendin’ the same for goin’ 
on thutty-seven years — ^ — ” 

"But surely, Mrs. Parraday, jou are not to blame 
because your husband sells liquor,” put in Janice, 


Josephus Comes Out for Prohibition 233 

sorry for the poor woman and trying to comfort 
her. 

‘Why ain’t I?” sharply demanded the tavern- 
keeper’s wife. “I’ve been Lem’s partner for en- 
durin’ all that time, too — thutty-seven years. I’ve 
been hopin’ all the time we’d git ahead an’ have 
suthin’ beside a livin’ here in Polktown. Fve been 
hungry for money! 

“Like enough if I hadn’t been so sharp after it, 
an’ complained so ’cause we didn’t git ahead, Lem 
an’ Cross Moore wouldn’t never got their heads to- 
gether an’ ’greed ter try rum-selling to make the old 
Inn pay a profit. 

“Oh, yes! I see my fault now. Oh, Lord! I 
see it,” groaned Marm Parraday, clasping her trem- 
bling hands. “But, believe me, Janice Day, I never 
seen this that’s come to us. We hev brought the 
curse of rum inter this taown after it had been free 
from it for years. An’ we shell hafter suffer in the 
end — an’ suffer more’n anybody else is sufferin’ 
through our fault.” 

She broke off suddenly and, without looking 
again at Janice, mounted the steps with her broom 
and disappeared inside the house. 

Janice, heartsick and almost in tears, was turning 
away when a figure appeared from around the cor- 
ner of the tavern — from the direction of the bar- 
room, in fact. But Frank Bowman’s smiling, ruddy 


234 


How Janice Day Won 


face displayed no sign of his having sampled Lem 
Parraday’s bar goods. 

‘"Hullo, Janice,” he said cheerfully. “IVe just 
been having a set-to w^ith Lem — ^and I don’t know 
but he’s got the best of me.” 

“In what way?” asked the girl, brushing her eyes 
quickly that the young man might not see her 
tears. 

“Why, this is pay day again, you know. My men 
take most of the afternoon off on pay day. They 
are cleaning up now, in the camp house, and will 
be over by and by to sample some of Lem’s goods,” 
and the engineer sighed. 

“No, I can’t keep them away from the place. I’ve 
tried. Some of them won’t come; but the majority 
will be in that pleasing condition known as ‘howling 
drunk’ before morning.” 

“Oh, Frank ! I wish Lem would stop selling the 
stuff,” cried Janice. 

“Well, he won’t. I’ve just been at him. I told 
him if he didn’t close his bar at twelve o’clock to- 
night, according to the law, I’d appear in court 
against him myself. I mean to stand outside here 
with Constable Cantor to-night and see that the 
barroom is dark at twelve o’clock, anyway.” 

“That will be a splendid move, Frank!” Janice 
said quickly, and with enthusiasm. 

“Ye-es; as far as it goes. But Lem said to me: 
‘Don’t forget this is a hotel, Mr. Bowman, and I 


Josephus Comes Out for Prohibition 235 


can serve my guests in the dining room or in their 
own rooms, all night long, if I want to.’ And thaf s 
true.” 

‘‘Oh, dear me ! So he can,” murmured Janice. 

“He’s got me there,” grumbled, young Bowman. 
“I never thought Lem Parraday any too sharp be- 
fore; but he’s learned a lot from Joe Bodley. That 
young fellow is about as shrewd and foxy as they 
make ’em.” 

“Yet they say he did not sell Hopewell’s violin 
at a profit, as he expected to,” Janice observed. 

“That’s right, too. And it’s queer,” the engineer 
said. “I’ve seen that black-haired, foxy-looking 
chap around town more than once since Joe bought 
the fiddle. Hullo! what’s the matter with Dexter?” 

The engineer had got into step at once with 
Janice, and they had by this time walked down High 
Street to the steamboat dock. The freight-house 
door was open and Walky Dexter had loaded his 
wagon and was ready to drive up town ; but Josephus 
was headed down the dock. 

The expressman was climbing unsteadily to his 
seat, and in reply to something said by the freight 
agent, he shouted: 

“Thas all right! thas all right! I kin turn 
Josephus ’round on this dock. Jefers-pelters! he 
could hack clean up town with this load, I sh’d 
hope !” 

Janice had said nothing in reply to Frank Bow- 


236 How Janice Day Won 

man’s last query; but the latter added, under his 
breath : ‘‘Goodness ! Walky is pretty well screwed- 
up, isn’t he? I just saw him at the hotel taking 
what he calls a ‘snifter.’ ” 

“Poor Walky!” sighed Janice. 

“Poor Josephus, I should say,” rejoined Frank 
quickly. 

The expressman was turning the old horse on the 
empty dock. There was plenty of room for this 
manoeuver; but Walky Dexter’s eyesight was not 
what it should be. Or, perhaps he was less patient 
than usual with Josephus. 

“Git around there, Josephus!” the expressman 
shouted. “Back! Back! I tell ye! Consam yer 
hide!” 

He yanked on the bit and Josephus’ heavy hoofs 
clattered on the resounding planks. The wagon 
was heavily laden; and when it began to run back- 
ward, with Walky jerking on the reins, it could 
not easily be stopped. 

A rotten length of “string-piece” had been re- 
moved from one edge of the dock, and a new timber 
had not yet replaced it. As bad fortune would 
have it, Walky backed his wagon directly into this 
opening; 

“Hold on there! Where ye goin’ to — ye crazy 
ol’ critter?” bawled the freight agent. 

“Hul-f^?.' Jefers-pelters!” gasped the suddenly 


Josephus Comes Out for Prohibition 237 


awakened Walky, casting an affrighted glance over 
his shoulder. “Pm a-backin' over the dump, ain't 
I? G\d-ap, Josephus!" 

But when once Josephus made up his slow mind 
to back, he did it thoroughly. He, too, expected 
to feel the rear wheels of the heavy farm wagon 
bump against the string-piece. 

''G\d-ap, Josephus!" yelled Walky again, and rose 
up to smite the old horse with the ends of the reins. 
He had no whip — nor would one have helped mat- 
ters, perhaps, at this juncture. 

The rear wheels went over the edge of the dock. 
The lake was high, being swelled by the Spring 
floods. ‘Tlump!" the back of the wagon plunged 
into the water, and, the bulk of the load being over 
the rear axle, the forward end shot up off the front 
truck. 

Wagon body and freight sunk into the lake. 
Walky, as though shot from a catapult, described a 
parabola over his horse's head and landed with a 
crash on all fours directly under Josephus' nose. 

Never was the old horse known to make an un- 
necessary motion. But the sudden flight and un- 
expected landing on the dock of his driver, quite 
excited Josephus. 

With a snort he scrambled backward, the front 
wheels went over the edge of the dock and dragged 
Josephus with them. Harnessed as he was, and still 


238 


How Janice Day Won 


attached to the shafts, the old horse went into the 
lake with a great splash. 

“Hey! Whoa! Whoa, Josephus! Jefers- 
pelters! ain’t this a purty to-do?” roared Walky, 
recovering his footing with more speed than grace. 

“Naow see that ol’ critter ! What’s he think he’s 
doin’ — takin’ a swimmin’ lesson?” 

For Josephus, with one mighty plunge, broke free 
from the shafts. He struck out for the shore and 
reached shallow water almost immediately. Walky 
ran off the dock and along the rocky shore to head 
the old horse off and catch him. 

But Josephus had no intention of being so easily 
caught. Either he had lost confidence in his owner, 
or some escapade of his colthood had come to his 
memory. He splashed ashore, dodged the eager 
hand of Walky, and with tail up, nostrils expanded, 
mane ruffled, and dripping water as he ran, Josephus 
galloped up the hillside and into the open lots be- 
hind Polktown. 

Walky Dexter, with very serious mien, came 
slowly back to the dock. Janice and Frank Bow- 
man, as well as the freight agent, had been held 
spellbound by these exciting incidents. Frank and 
the agent were now convulsed with laughter; but 
Janice sympathized with the woeful expressman. 

The latter halted on the e<ige of the dock, gaz- 
ing from the shafts of his wagon sticking upright 
out of the lake to the snorting old horse up on the 


Josephus Comes Out for Prohibition 239 


hill. Then he scratched his bare, bald crown, sighed, 
and muttered quite loud enough for Janice to 
hear: 

‘‘Jefers-pelters! I reckon old Josephus hez come 
out for prohibition, an’ no mistake!” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


ANOTHER GOLD PIECE 

Fortunately for Walky Dexter, the freight 
that he had backed into the lake was not perish- 
able. It could not be greatly injured by water. 
With the help of neighbors and loiterers and a team 
of horses, the two sections of the unhung wagon 
and the crates of agricultural tools were hauled out 
of the lake. 

“There, Walky,” said the freight agent, wiping 
his perspiring brow when the work was completed 
— for this happened on a warm day in early June. 
“I hope ter goodness you look where you air backin’ 
to, nex’ time.” 

“Perhaps it will be just as well if he hacks where 
he’s looking” suggested the young engineer, having 
removed his coat and aided very practically in the 
straightening out of Walky’s affairs. This greatly 
pleased Janice, who had remained to watch pro- 
ceedings. 

“Come, naow, tell the truth, Walky Dexter,” 
drawled another of the expressman’s helpers. “Was 
ye seein’ double when ye did th'^t trick?” 

There was a general laugh at this question. 

240 


Another Gold Piece 


241 


Walky Dexter, for once, had no ready reply. In- 
deed, he had been particularly serious all through 
the work of re-establishing his wagon on the dock. 

‘Well, Walky, ye oughter stand treat on this, 
I vum!’' said the freight agent. “Suthin' long, an' 
cool, would go mighty nice." 

“Isuckles is aout o' season — ^he! he!" chuckled 
another, frankly doubtful of Walky's generosity. 

“Lock up your freight house, Sam, and ye shall 
have it," declared Walky, with sudden briskness. 

“That's the ticket !" exclaimed the Doubting 
Thomas, with a quick change of tone. “Spoke like 
a soldier, Walky. I hope Joe's jest tapped a fresh 
kaig." 

Walky halted and scratched his head as he looked 
from one to another of the expectant group. “Why, 
ter tell the trewth," he jerked out, “I’m feelin' more 
like some o' thet thar acid phosphate Massey sells 
out’n his sody-fountain. Le's go up there." 

“Jest as yeou say, Walky. You’re the doctor," 
said the freight agent, though somewhat crestfallen, 
as were the others, at this suggestion. 

“Don't count me in, Walky — though I'm obliged 
to you," laughed Bowman, who was getting into his 
coat. 

“Jest the same we’ll paternize the drug store for 
this once," said the expressman, stoutly, and with 
gravity he led the way up the hill. 

Later Walky went across into the fields and tried 


242 


How Janice Day Won 


to catch Josephus; but that wise old creature seemed 
suddenly to have lost confidence in his master, and 
refused to be won by his tones, or even the shaking" 
of an empty oat-measure. So Walky was obliged 
to go home and bring down Josephus’ mate to draw 
the freight to its destination. 

Janice parted from the young engineer and 
walked up Hillside Avenue, intending to take sup- 
per at home and afterward return to the Drugg 
place to spend another night or two with the store- 
keeper’s lonely wife. 

She was sitting with Aunt ’Mira on the side porch 
before supper, while the “short bread” was baking 
and Uncle Jason and Marty were at the chores, 
when Walky Dexter drew near with his now all but 
empty wagon, and stopped in the lane to bring in 
a new cultivator Uncle Jason had sent for. 

“Evenin’, Miz’ Day,” observed Walky, eyeing 
Aunt ’Mira and her niece askance. “Naow say 
it!” 

“Say what, Mr. Dexter?” asked Mrs. Day puz- 
zled. 

“Why, I been gittin’ of it all over taown,” 
groaned the expressman. “Sarves me right, I 
s’pose. I see the reedic’lous side o’ most things that 
happen ter other folks — an’ they gotter right ter laff 
at me.” 

“Why, what’s happened ye?” asked Aunt ’Mira. 


Another Gold Piece 


243 


‘‘Jefers-pelters!” ejaculated Walky. “Ain't 
Janice tol’ ye ?" 

“Nothin' about you," Mrs. Day assured him. 

“She'd be a good 'un ter tell secrets to, wouldn't 
she?" the expressman said, with a queer twist of his 
face. “Ain’t ye heard how I dumped m' load — an' 
Josephus — inter the lake?" and he proceeded to 
recount the accident with great relish and good 
humor. 

Marty and his father, bringing in the milk, 
stopped to listen and laugh. At the conclusion of 
the story, as Marty was pumping a pail of water 
for the kitchen shelf, Walky said : 

“Gimme a dipper o' that, boy. My mouth's so 
dry I can't speak the trewth. That’s it — thanky!” 

“Ye oughtn't to be dry, Walky — cornin' right 
past Lem Parraday’s /i£>-tel," remarked Mr. Day, 
with a chuckle. 

“Wal, naow! that’s what I was goin' ter speak 
abeout,” said Walky, with sudden vigor. “Janice, 
here, an' me hev been havin' an argyment right 
along about that rum sellin' business " 

“About the drinking, at any rate, Walky," in- 
terposed Janice, gently. 

“Wal — ^ahem! — ^ya-as. About the drinkin' of it, 
I s'pose. Yeou said, Janice, that my takin a snifter 
now and then was an injury to other critters as 
well as to m'self." 

“And I repeat it,” said the girl confidently. 


244 


How Janice Day Won 

“D'ye know," jerked out Walky, with his head 
on one side and his eyes screwed up, “that I b’lieve 
Josephus agrees with ye?" 

“Ho! ho!" laughed Marty. “Was you fresh 
from Lem Parraday's bar when you backed the old 
feller over the dock?" 

“Wal, Pd had a snifter," drawled Walky, his 
eyes twinkling. “Anyhow, I’m free ter confess that 
I don’t see how I could ha’ done sech a fullish 
thing if I hadn’t been drinkin’ — ^it’s a fac’ ! I never 
did b’lieve what little I took would ever hurt any- 
body. But poor ol’ Josephus! He might ha’ been 
drowned." 

“Oh, Walky!" cried Janice. “Do you see that?" 

“I see the light at last, Janice," solemnly said 
the expressman. “I guess I’d better let the stuff 
alone. I dunno when I’d git a boss as good as 
Josephus " 

“No nearer’n the boneyard," put in Marty, sotto 
voce, 

“Anyhow, I see my failin’ sure enough. Never 
was so reckless b’fore in all my life," pursued 
Walky. “Mebbe, if I kep’ on drinkin’ that stuff 
they sell daown ter the Ao-tel, I’d drown both m^ 
bosses — ^havin’ drowned m’ own brains — ^like twin 
kittens, in ha’f an inch o’ alcohol! Haw! haw! 
haw!" 

But despite his laughter Janice saw that Walky 


Another Gold Piece 


245 


Dexter was much in earnest. She said to Nelson 
that evening, in Hopewell Drugg’s store: 

‘‘I consider Walky’s conversion is the best thing 
that’s happened yet in our campaign for prohibi- 
tion.” 

'A greater conquest than mine?'' laughed the 
schoolmaster. 

‘‘Why, Nelson,” Janice said sweetly, “I know 
that you have only to think carefully on any subject 
to come to the right conclusion. But poor Walky 
isn’t ‘long’ on thought, if he is on ‘talk,’ ” and 
she laughed a little. 

It was after Sunday School the following after- 
noon that Janice went again to Pine Cove to see 
the Narnay baby. She had conversed with busy 
Dr. Poole for a few moments and learned his 
opinion of the case. It was not favorable. 

“Not much chance for the child,” said the brusk 
doctor. “Never has been much chance for it. One 
of those children that have no right to be born.” 

“Oh, Doctor!” murmured Janice. 

“A fact. It has never had enough nutrition and 
is going to die of plain starvation.” 

“Can nothing be done to save it ? If it had plenty 
of nourishment now?" 

“No use. Gone too far,” growled the physician, 
shaking his grizzled head. “If I knew how to save 
it, I would; that’s my job. But the best thing that 
can happen is its death. Ought to be a bangin’ 


246 


How Janice Day Won 


matter for poor folks to have so many children, 
anyway,” he concluded grimly. 

‘That sounds awful to me. Dr. Poole,” Janice 
said. 

“There is something awful about Nature. Na- 
ture takes care of these things, if we doctors are 
not allowed to.” 

“Why! what do you mean?” 

“The law of the survival of the fittest is what 
keeps this old world of ours from being over- 
populated by weaklings.” 

Janice Day was deeply impressed by the doc- 
tor’s words, and thought over them sadly as she 
walked down the hill toward Pine Cove. She went 
by the old path past Mr. Cross Moore’s and saw 
him in his garden, wheeling his wife in her chair. 

Mrs. Moore was a frail woman, and because of 
long years of invalidism, a most exacting person. 
She had great difficulty in keeping a maid because 
of her unfortunate temper; and sometimes Mr. 
Moore was left alone to keep house. Nobody could 
suit the invalid as successfully as her husband. 

“Wheel me to the fence. I want to speak to that 
girl. Cross,” commanded the wife sharply, and the 
town selectman did so. 

“Janice Day!” called Mrs. Moore, “I wish to 
speak to 3^ou.” 

Janice, smiling, ran across the street and shook 


Another Gold Piece 


247 


hands with the sick woman over the fence palings. 
But she barely nodded to Mr. Cross Moore. 

“I understand you’re one o’ these folks that’s 
talking so foolish about prohibition, and about 
shutting up the hotel. Is that so?” demanded Mrs. 
Moore, her sunken, black eyes snapping. 

‘4 don’t think it is foolish, Mrs. Moore,” Janice 
said pleasantly. ‘And we don’t wish to close the 
Inn — only its bar.” 

“Same thing,” decided Mrs. Moore snappishly. 
“Takin’ the bread and butter out o’ people’s 
mouths! Ye better be in better business — all of ye. 
And a young girl like you! I’d like to have my 
stren’th and have the handling of you, Janice Day. 
I’d teach ye that children better be seen than heard. 
Where you going to. Cross Moore?” for her hus- 
band had turned the chair and was starting away 
from the fence. 

“Well — ^now — Mother! You’ve told the girl yer 
mind, ain’t ye?” suggested Mr. Moore. “That’s 
what you wanted to do, wasn’t it?” 

“I wish she was my young one,” said Mrs. 
Moore, between her teeth, “and I had the use o’ my 
limbs. I’d make her behave herself!” 

“I wish she was ours. Mother,” Mr. Moore said 
kindly. “I guess we’d be mighty proud of her.” 

Janice did not hear his words. She had walked 
away from the fence with flaming cheeks and tears 
in her eyes. She was sorry for Mrs. Moore’s mis- 


248 


How Janice Day Won 


fortunes and had always tried to be kind to her; 
but this seemed such an unprovoked attack. 

Janice Day craved approbation as much as any 
girl living. She appreciated the smiles that met 
her as she walked the streets of Polktown. The 
scowls hurt her tender heart, and the harsh words 
of Mrs. Moore wounded her deeply. 

suppose that is the way they both feel toward 
me,’’ she thought, with a sigh. 

The wreck of the old fishing dock — a favorite 
haunt of little Lottie Drugg — was at the foot of the 
hill, and Janice halted here a moment to look out 
across it, and over the quiet cove, to the pine- 
covered point that gave the shallow basin its name. 

Lottie had believed that in the pines her echo 
lived, and Janice could almost hear now the child- 
ish wail of the little one as she shouted, ‘"He-a! 
he-a! he-a!” to the mysterious sprite that dwelt in 
the pines and mocked her with its voice. Blind and 
very deaf, Lottie had been wont to run fearlessly 
out upon the broken dock and *'pl2iy with her echo,” 
as she called it. A wave of pity swept over Janice’s 
mind and heart. Suppose Lottie should again com- 
pletely lose the boon of sight. What would be- 
come of her as she grew into girlhood and woman- 
hood? 

“Poor little dear! I almost fpar for Hopewell to 
come home and tell us what the doctors say,” sighed 
Janice. 


Another Gold Piece 


249 


Then, even more tender memories associated 
with the old wharf filled Janice Day's thought. On 
it, in the afterglow of a certain sunset. Nelson 
Haley had told her how the college at Millhampton 
had invited him to join its faculty, and he had asked 
her if she approved of his course in Polktown. 

It had been decided between thern that Folk- 
town was a better field for his efforts in his chosen 
pro/ession for the present — as the college appoint- 
ment would remain open to him — and Janice was 
proud to think that meanwhile he had built the 
Polktown school up, and had succeeded so well. 
This spot was the scene of their first really serious 
talk. 

She wondered now if her advice had been wise, 
after all. Suppose Nelson had gone to Millhampton 
immediately when he was called there? He would 
have escaped this awful accusation that had been 
brought against him — that was sure. 

His situation now was most unfortunate. Hav- 
ing requested a vacation from his school, he was 
receiving no pay all these weeks that he was idle. 
And Janice knew the young man could ill afford 
this. He had been of inestimable help to Mr. 
Middler and the other men who had charge of the 
campaign for prohibition that was moving on so 
grandly in Polktown. But that work could not be 
paid for. 

Janice believed Nelson was now nearly penniless. 


250 


How Janice Day Won 


His situation troubled her mind almost as much as 
that of her father in Mexico. 

She went on along the shore to the northward, 
toward the little group of houses at the foot of 
the bluff, in one of which the Narnays lived. 

There were the children grouped together at one 
end of the rickety front porch. Their mother sat 
on the stoop, rocking herself to and fro with the 
sickly baby across her lean knees, her face hope- 
less, her figure slouched forward and uncouth to 
look at. 

A more miserable looking party Janice Day had 
never before seen. And the reason for it was 
quickly explained to her. At the far end of the 
porch lay Namay, on his back in the sun, his mouth 
open, the flies buzzing aroimd his red face, sleeping 
off — it was evident — the night’s debauch. 

“Oh, my dear!” moaned Janice, taking Mrs. 
Narnay’s feebly offered hand in both her own, and 
squeezing it tightly. “I — I wish I might help you.” 

“Ye can’t. Miss. There ain’t nothin’ can be done 
for us — ’nless the good Lord would take us all,” 
and there was utter hopelessness and desperation 
in her voice. 

“Don’t say that ! It must be that there are better 
times in store for you all,” said Janice. 

“With thatf' asked Mrs. Narnay, nodding her 
uncombed head toward the sleeping drunkard. 



'' Oh my dear ! hi wish I might help you/' 






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Another Gold Piece 


251 


“Not much. Only for baby, here. There’s a better 
time cornin’ for her — thanks be!” 

“Oh!” 

“Doctor says she can’t live out th’ Summer. 
She’s goin’ ter miss growin’ up ter be what I be — 
an’ what Sophie’ll proberbly be. It’s a mercy. But 
it’s hard ter part ’ith the little thing. When she is 
bright, she’s that cunnin’ !” 

As Janice came up the steps to sit down beside 
the poor woman and play with the baby, that 
smiled at her so wanly, the sleeping man grunted, 
rolled over toward them, half opened his eyes, 
and then rolled back again. 

Something rattled on the boards of the porch. 
Janice looked and saw several small coins that had 
rolled out of the man’s trousers pocket. Mrs. 
Narnay saw them too. 

“Git them, Sophie — quick!” she breathed per- 
emptorily. 

“Cheese it, Mom!” gasped Sophie, running on 
tiptoe toward her sleeping father. “He’ll nigh 
erbout kill us when he wakes up.” 

“I don’t keer,” said the woman, grabbing the 
coins when Sophie had collected them. “He come 
out o’ the woods last night and he had some money 
an’ I hadn’t a cent. I sent him to git things from 
the store and all he brought back — and that was at 
midnight when they turned him out o’ the hotel — 
was a bag of crackers and a pound of oatmeal. 


252 


How Janice Day Won 


And he’s got money! He kin kill me if he wants. 
I’m goin’ ter have some of it — Oh, look! what’s 
this?” 

Janice had almost cried out in amazement, too. 
One of the coins in the woman’s toil-creased palm 
was a gold piece. 

''Five dollars ! Mebbe he had more,” Mrs. 
Narnay said anxiously. "Mebbe Concannon’s paid 
’em all some more money, and Jim’s startin’ in to 
drink it up.” 

"Better put that money back. Mom, he’ll be 
mad,” said Sophie, evidently much alarmed. 

"He won’t be ugly when the drink wears off and 
he ain’t got no money to git no more,” her mother 
said. "Jim never is.” 

"But he’ll find out youse got that gold coin. He’s 
foxy,” said the shrewd child. 

Janice drew forth her purse. "Let me have that 
five dollar gold piece,” she said to Mrs. Narnay. 
"I’ll give you five one dollar bills for it. You 
won’t have to show but one of the bills at a time, 
that is sure.” 

"That’s a good idea. Miss,” said the woman hope- 
fully. "And mebbe I can make him start back for 
the woods again to-night. Oh, dear me! ’Tis an 
awful thing ! I don’t want him ’round — an’ yet when 
he’s sober he’s the nicest man ’ith young’uns ye ever 
see. He jest dotes on this poor little thing,” and 


Another Gold Piece 


253 


she looked down again into the weazened face of 
the baby. 

‘‘It is too bad/’ murmured Janice; but she 
scarcely gave her entire mind to what the woman 
was saying. 

Here was a second gold piece turned up in Polk- 
town. And, as Uncle Jason had said, such coins 
were not often seen in the hamlet. Janice had 
more than one reason for securing the gold piece, 
and she determined to learn, if she could, if this 
one was from the collection that had been stolen 
from the school-house weeks before. 


CHAPTER XXV 


IN DOUBT 

The first of all feminine prerogatives is the right 
to change one’s mind. Janice Day changed hers 
a dozen times about that five dollar gold piece. 

It was at last decided, however, by the young 
girl that she would not immediately take Nelson 
Haley into her confidence. Why excite hope in his 
mind only, perhaps, to have it crushed again ? Bet- 
ter learn all she could about the gold coin that had 
rolled out of Jim Namay’s pocket, before telling 
the young schoolmaster. 

In her heart Janice did not believe Narnay was 
the person who had stolen the coin collection from 
the schoolhouse. He might have taken part in such 
a robbery, at night, and while under the influence 
of liquor; but he never would have had the cour- 
age to do such a thing by daylight and alone. 

Namay might be a companion of the real 
criminal; but more likely, Janice believed, he was 
merely an accessory after the fact. 

This, of course, if the gold piece should prove 
to be one of those belonging tb 'the collection which 
Mr. Haley was accused of stealing. The coin found 
254 


In Doubt 


255 


in Hopewell Drugg’s possession, and which had 
come to him through Joe Bodley, might easily have 
been put into circulation by the same person as this 
coin Narnay had dropped. The ten dollar coin had 
gone into the tavern till, and this five dollar coin 
would probably have gone there, too, had chance 
not put it in Janice Day’s way. 

‘Tirst of all, I must discover if there was a coin 
like this one in that collection,” the girl told her- 
self. And early on Monday morning, on her way 
to the seminary, she drove around through High 
Street and stopped before the drugstore. 

Fortunately Mr. Massey was not busy and she 
could speak to him without delaying her trip to 
Middletown. 

“What’s that?” he asked her, rumpling his top- 
knot in his usual fashion when he was puzzled or 
disturbed. “List of them coins? I should say I 
did have ’em. The printed list Mr. Hobart left 
with ’em wasn’t taken by — by — well, by whoever 
took ’em. Here ’tis/’ 

“You speak,” said Janice quickly, “as though you 
still believed Mr. Haley to be the thief.” 

“Well!” and again the druggist’s hands went 
through his hair. “I dunno what to think. If he 
done it, he’s actin’ mighty funny. There ain’t no 
warrant out for him now. He can leave town — go 
clean off if he wants — and nobody will, or can, 


256 


How Janice Day Won 


stop him. And ye’d think if he had all that money 
he would do so.” 

‘^Oh, Mr. Massey!” 

“Well, I’m merely puttin’ the case,” said the 
druggist. “That would be sensible. He’s got fif- 
teen hundred dollars or more — if he took the coin 
collection. An’ it ain’t doin’ him a ’tamal bit of 
good, as I can see. I told Cross Moore last night 
that I believe we’d been barkin’ up the wrong tree 
all this time.” 

“What did he say?” cried Janice eagerly. 

“Well — ^he didn’t say. Ye know how Cross is — 
as tight-mouthed as a clam with the lockjaw. But 
it is certain sure that we committeemen have our 
own troubles. Mr. Haley was a master good 
teacher. Ye got to hand it to him on that. And 
this feller the Board sent us ain’t got no more idea 
of handling the school than I have of dancing the 
Spanish fandango. 

“However, that ain’t the p’int. What I was 
speakin’ of is this: Nelse Haley is either a blamed 
fool, or else he never stole that money,” and the 
druggist said it with desperation in his tone. “I 
hear he’s took a job at sixteen a month and board 
with Elder Concannon — and farmin’ for the elder 
ain’t a job that no boy with money and right good 
sense would ever tackle.” 

“Oh, Mr. Massey! Has he?” for this was news 
indeed to Janice. 


In Doubt 


257 


“Yep. That’ s what he’s done. It looks like his 
runners was scrapin’ on bare ground when he’d 
do that. Course, I need a feller right in this store 
— behind that sody-fountain. And a smart, nice 
appearin’ one like Nelse Haley would be just the 
ticket — ’nough sight better than Jack Besmith was. 
But I couldn’t hire the schoolteacher, ’cause it would 
create so much talk. But goin’ to work on a farm 
— and for a slave-driver like the elder — Well!” 

Janice understood very well why Nelson had said 
nothing to her about this. He was very proud in- 
deed and did not want the girl to suspect how poor 
he had really become. Nelson had said he would 
stay in Polktown until the mystery of the stolen 
coin collection was cleared up — or, at least, until 
it was proved that he had nothing to do with it. 

“And the poor fellow has just about come to 
the end of his rope,” thought Janice commiserat- 
ingly. “Oh, dear, me! Even if I had plenty of 
money, he wouldn’t let me help him. Nelson 
wouldn’t take money from a girl — not even bor- 
row it!” 

However, Janice stuck to her text with Massey 
and obtained the list of the lost collection to look 
at. “Dunno what you want it for,” said the drug- 
gist. “You going sleuthing for the thief, Miss 
Janice?” 

“Maybe,” she returned, with a serious smile. 


258 


HoW Janice Day Won 


‘‘I reckon that ten dollar gold piece that Joe 
Bodley took in at the hotel was a false alarm.” 

“If Joe Bodley had told you how he came by 
it, it would have helped some, would it not, Mr. 
Massey ?” 

“Sure — it might. But he couldn’t remember who 
gave it to him,” said the man, wagging his head 
forlornly. 

“I wonder?” said Janice, using one of her uncle’s 
favorite expressions, and so made her way out of 
the store and into her car again. When she had 
time that forenoon at the seminary she spread out 
the sheet on which the description of the coins was 
printed, and looked for the note relating to the 
five dollar gold piece in her possession. 

It was there. It was not a particularly old or 
a very rare coin, however. There might be others 
of the same date and issue in circulation. So, after 
all, the fact that Narnay had it proved nothing — 
unless she could discover how he came by it — who 
had given it to him. 

In the afternoon Janice drove home by the Upper 
Road and ran her car into Elder Concannon’s yard. 
It was the busy season for the elder, for he con- 
ducted two big* farms and had a number of men 
working for him besides his regular farm hands. 

He was ever ready to talk with Janice Day, how- 
ever, and he came out* of the p^iddock now, in his 


In Doubt 


259 


old dust coat and broad-brimmed hat, smiling cordi- 
ally at her. 

‘'Come in and have a pot of tea with me,’^ he 
said. “Ye know Fm partial to ‘old maid’s tipple’ 
and Mrs. Grayson will have it ready about now, I 
s’pose. Stop! I’ll tell her to bring it out on the 
side porch. It’s shady there. You look like a 
cup would comfort you, Janice. What’s the mat- 
ter?” 

“I’ve lots of troubles. Elder Concannon,” she 
said, with a sigh. “But you have your share, too, 
so I’ll keep most of mine to myself,” and she hopped 
out from behind the wheel of the automobile. 

They went to the porch and the elder halloaed 
in at the screen door. His housekeeper soon bustled 
out with the tray. She remained to take one cup 
of tea herself. Then, when she had gone about her 
duties, Janice opened the subject upon which she 
had come to confer. 

“How are those men getting on in your wood 
lot, Elder?” 

“What men — and what lot?” he asked smiling. 

“I don’t know what lot it is; but I mean Mr. 
Trimmins and those others.” 

“Oh! Trimmins and Jim Namay and that 
Besmith boy ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why, they are moving on slowly. This is their 
third job with me since Winter. Once or twice 


260 How Janice Day Won 

theyVe kicked over the traces and gone on a 
spree ” 

“That was when you paid them?” 

“That was when I had to pay them,” said the 
elder. “They work pretty well when they haven’t 
any money.” 

“Have you paid them lately, Sir?” asked Janice. 
“I am asking for a very good reason — not out of 
curiosity.” 

“I have not. It’s a month and more since they 
saw the color of my money. Hold on! that’s not 
quite true,” he added suddenly. “I gave Jim 
Narnay a dollar Saturday afternoon.” 

“Oh!” 

“He came by here on his way to town. Said he 
was going down to see his sick baby. She is sick, 
isn’t she?” 

“Oh, yes,” murmured Janice. “Poor little 
thing !” 

“Well, he begged for some money, and I let 
him have a dollar. He said he didn’t want to go 
down home without a cent in his pocket. So I gave 
it to him.” 

“Only a dollar?” repeated the girl thoughtfully. 

The old man’s face flushed a little, and he said 
tartly: “I reckon that did him no good. By the 
looks of his face when he went through here Sun- 
day night he’d proberbly spent it all in liquor, I 
sh’d say.” 


In Doubt 


261 


‘‘Oh, no ! I didn’t mean to criticize your generos- 
ity,” Janice said quickly. ‘'I believe you gave him 
more than was good for him. I know that Mrs. 
Narnay and the children had little benefit of it.” 

“That’s what I supposed,” grunted the elder. 

Janice sipped her tea and, looking over the edge 
of her cup at him, asked : 

“Having much trouble. Elder, with your new 
man ?” 

“What new man?” snorted the old gentleman, 
his mouth screwed up very tightly. 

“I hear you have the school teacher working for 
you,” she said. 

“Well! So I have,” he admitted, his face sud- 
denly broadening. “Trust you women folks for 
finding things out in a hurry. But he ain’t teach- 
ing school up here — believe me!” 

“No?” 

“He’s helping clean up my hog lot. I dunno but 
maybe he thinks it isn’t any worse than managing 
Polktown boys,” and the elder chuckled. 

But Janice was serious and she bent forward and 
laid a hand upon the old man’s arm. “Oh, Elder 
Concannon! don’t be too hard on him, will you?” 
she begged. 

He grinned at her. “I won’t break him all up 
in business. We want to use him down town in 
these meetings we’re going to hold for temperance. 
He’s got a way of talking that convinces folks. 


262 


How Janice Day Won 


Janice — I vow! Remember how he talked for the 
new schoolhouse? I haven’t forgotten that, for he 
beat me that time. 

“Now, we can’t afford to hire many of these out- 
side speakers for prohibition — it costs too much to 
get them here. But I have told Mr. Haley to 
brush up his ideas, and by and by we’ll have him 
make a speech in Polktown. He can practise on 
the pigs for a while,” added the elder laughing; 
“and maybe after all they won’t be so dif’rent from 
some of them in town that I want should hear the 
young man when he does spout.” 

So Janice was comforted, and ran down town to 
the Drugg place in a much more cheerful frame 
of mind. Marty was waiting at the store for the 
car. There was a special reason for his being 
so prompt. 

“Look-a-here I” he called. “What d’ye know 
about this?” and he waved something over his head. 

“What is it, Marty Day?” Janice cried, looking 
at the small object in wonder. 

“Another letter from Uncle Brockeyl, Hooray! 
he ain’t dead yet!” shouted the boy. 

His cousin seized the missive — afresh from the 
post-office — and gazed anxiously at the envelope. 
It was postmarked in one of the border towns many 
days after the report of Juan Dicampa’s death; yet 
the writing on the envelope was the handwriting of 
the guerrilla chief. 


In Doubt 


263 


‘‘Goodness me!” gasped Janice, “what can this 
mean ?” 

She broke the seal. As usual the envelope in- 
side was addressed to her by her father. And as 
she hastily scanned the letter she saw no mention 
made of Juan Dicampa’s death. Indeed, Mr. Brox- 
ton Day wrote just as though his own situation, at 
least, had not changed. And he seemed to have 
received most of her letters. 

What did it mean? If the guerrilla leader had 
been shot by the Federals, how was it possible for 
her father's letters to still come along, redirected 
in Juan Dicampa’s hand? 

Doubt assailed her mind — many doubts, indeed. 
Although Mr. Broxton Day seemed still in safety, 
the mystery surrounding his situation in Mexico 
grew mightily in Janice’s mind. 

That evening Hopewell Drugg returned from 
Boston and reported that Lottie would have to 
remain under the doctors’ care for a time. They, 
too, were in doubt. Nobody could yet say whether 
the child would lose her sight or not. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE TIDE TURNS 

These doubts, however, did not switch Janice 
Day’s thought off the line of the stolen gold coins. 

The five dollar gold piece found in the possession 
of Jim Narnay still raised in the girl’s mind a 
number of queries. It was a mystery, she believed, 
that when solved might aid in clearing Nelson 
Haley of suspicion. 

Of course, the coin she carried in her purse 
might not be one of those lost with the collection. 
That was impossible to decide at the moment. The 
case of the ten-dollar coin was different. That 
was an exceedingly rare one and in all probability 
nobody but a person ignorant of its value would 
have put it into circulation. 

Nevertheless, how did Jim Narnay get hold of a 
five dollar gold piece? 

Elder Concannon had not given it to him. Nar- 
nay had come to town on that Saturday evening 
with only a dollar of the elder’s money in his 
pocket. Did he bring the coin with him, or did he 
obtain it after reaching town ? j^nd who had given 
the gold piece to the man, in either case? 

264 


The Tide Turns 


265 


Janice would have been glad to take somebody 
into her confidence in this matter; but who should 
it be? Not her uncle or her aunt. Neither Hope- 
well nor ’Rill was to be thought of. And the 
minister, or Elder Concannon, seemed too much 
apart from this business to be conferred with. And 
Nelson 

She did go to Mrs. Beaseley’s one evening, hop- 
ing that she might find Nelson there, for she had 
not seen the young man or heard from him since 
he had gone out of town to work for Elder Con- 
cannon. He was not at the widow’s, and she 
found that good but lachrymose woman in tears. 

‘Tm a poor lone woman — loner and lomer than 
I’ve felt since my poor, sainted Charles passed 
away. Oh, Janice! it seems a pitiful shame that 
such a one as Mr. Haley should have to go to work 
on a farm when he can do such a lot of other 
things — and better things.” 

‘‘I don’t know about there being anything much 
better than farming — if one has a taste for it,” 
said Janice cheerfully. 

‘‘But an educated man — a teacher !” groaned 
Mrs. Beaseley. “An’ I felt like he was my own 
son — ’specially since Cross Moore and them others 
been houndin’ him about that money. Cross Moore 
come to me, an’ says he: ‘Miz Beaseley, ’tis your 
duty to let me look through that young man’s 


266 


How Janice Day Won 


things when he’s out. We’ll either clear him or 
clench it on him.’ 

“An’ says I : ^Cross Moore, if you put your 
fut across my threshold I’ll sartain sure take the 
broom to you — an’ ye’ll find that's clenched, 
a’ready!’ ” 

“Oh, Mrs. Beaseley!” gasped Janice, yet inclined 
to laugh, too. 

“Oh, I’d ha’ done it,” threatened the widow, the 
tears still on her cheeks. “Think o’ them, houndin’ 
poor Mr. Haley so! Why! if my poor sainted 
Charles was alive, he’d run Cross Moore clean 
down to the lake — an’ inter it, I expect, like Walky 
Dexter’s boss. 

“And if he warn’t so proud ” 

''Who is so proud, Mrs. Beaseley?” asked Janice, 
who had some difficulty at times in following the 
good woman’s line of talk. 

“Why — Mr. Nelson Haley. I did make him 
leave his books here, and ev’rything he warn’t goin’ 
ter use out there at the elder’s. And I’m going to 
keep them two rooms jest as he had ’em, and he 
shell come back here whenever he likes. Money! 
What d’ I keer whether he pays me money or not? 
My poor, sainted Charles left me enough to live on 
as long as a poor, lorn, lone creeter like me wants 
ter live. Nelson Haley is welcome ter stay here for 
the rest of his endurin’ life, if he wants to, an’ 
never pay me a cent!” 


The Tide Turns 


267 


‘‘I don’t suppose he could take such great favors 
as you offer him, Mrs. Beaseley,” said Janice, kiss- 
ing her. ^^But you are a dear! And I know he 
must appreciate what you have already done for 
him.” 

'AVish’t ’twas more! Wish’t ’twas more!” 
sobbed Mrs. Beaseley. ‘^But he’ll come back ter me 
nex’ Fall. I know! When he goes ter teachin’ 
ag’in, he miist come here to live,” 

“Oh, Mrs. Beaseley! do you think they will let 
Nelson teach again in the Polktown school?” cried 
the girl. 

“My mercy me! D’yeou mean to tell me Cross 
Moore and Massey and them other men air perfect 
fules?” cried the widow. “Here ’tis ’most time for 
school to close, and they tell me the graduatin’ class 
ain’t nowhere near where they ought to be in their 
books. The supervisor come over himself, and he 
says he never seen sech ridiculous work as this Mr. 
Adams has done here. He — ^he’s a baby! And he 
ought to be teachin’ babies — ^not bein’ principal of a 
graded school sech as Mr. Haley built up here.” 

There were plenty of other people in Polktown 
who spoke almost as emphatically against the pres- 
ent state of the school and in Nelson’s favor. 
Three months or so of bad management had told 
greatly in the discipline and in the work of the 
pupils. 

A few who would graduate from the upper grade 


268 


How Janice Day Won 


were badly prepared, and would have to make up 
some of their missed studies during the Summer if 
they were to be accepted as pupils in their proper 
grade at the Middletown Academy. 

Mr. Haley’s record up to the very day he had 
withdrawn from his position of teacher was as 
good as any teacher in the State. Indeed, several 
teachers from surrounding districts had met with 
him in Polktown once a month and had taken 
work and instructions from him. The State Board 
of Education and the supervisors had appreciated 
Nelson’s work. Mr. Adams had been the only 
substitute they could give Polktown at such short 
notice. He was supposed to have had the same 
training as Mr. Haley; but — “different men, dif- 
ferent minds.” 

“Ye’d oughter come over to our graduation ex- 
ercises, Janice,” said Marty, with a grin. “We’re 
goin’ to do ourselves proud. Hi tunket ! that 
Adams is so green that I wonder Walky’s old 
Josephus ain’t bit him yet, thinkin’ he was a wisp 
of grass.” 

“Now Marty!” said his mother, admonishingly. 

“Fact,” said her son. “Adams wants me to 
speak a piece on that great day. I told him I 
couldn’t — ^m’ lip’s cracked!” and Marty giggled. 
“But Sally Prentiss is going to recite "A Psalm of 
Life,’ ajid Peke Ringgold is going to tell us all 
about ‘Bozzar — Bozzar — is’ — as though we hadn’t 


The Tide Turns 


269 


been made acquainted with him ever since Hector 
was a pup. And Hector’s a big dog now !” 

“You’re one smart young feller, now, ain’t ye?” 
said his father, for this information was given 
out by Marty at the supper table one evening just 
before the “great day,” as he called the last ses- 
sion of school for that year. 

“I b’lieve I’m smart enough to know when to go 
in and keep dry,” returned his son, flippantly. “But 
I’ve my doubts about Mr. Adams — for a fac’.” 

“Nev’ mind,” grunted his father. “There’ll be a 
change before next Fall.” 

“There’d better be — or I don’t go back for my 
last year at school. Now, you can bet on that!” 
cried Marty, belligerently. “Hi tunket! I’d jest 
as soon be taught by an old maid after all as 
Adams.” 

Differently expressed, the whole town seemed 
of a mind regarding the school and the failure of 
Mr. Adams. The committee got over that ignomin- 
ious graduation day as well as possible. Mr. Mid- 
dler did all he could to make it a success, and he 
made a very nice speech to the pupils and their 
parents. 

The minister could not be held responsible in any 
particular for the failure of the school. Of all 
the committee, he had had nothing to do with 
Nelson Haley’s resignation. As Walky Dexter 
said, Mr. Middler “flocked by himself.” He had 


270 


How Janice Day Won 


little to do with the other four members of the 
school committee. 

“And when it comes ’lection,’^ said Walky, dog- 
matically, “there’s a hull lot on us will have jest 
abeout as much to do with Cross Moore and Mas- 
sey and old Crawford and Joe Pellett, as Mr. Mid- 
dler does. Jefers-pelters ! If they don’t put no- 
body else up for committeemen, I’ll vote for the 
taown pump!” 

“Ya-as, Walky,” said Uncle Jason, slily. “That’d 
be likely, I reckon. I hear ye air purty firmly 
seated on the water wagon.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE TEMPEST 

Mr. Cross Moore was not a man who easily or 
frequently recanted before either public or private 
opinion. As political ‘‘boss’’ of the town he had 
often found himself opposed to many of his neigh- 
bors’ wishes. Neither sharp tongue nor sharp look 
disturbed him — apparently, at least. 

Besides, Mr. Moore loved a fight “for the fight’s 
sake,” as the expression is. He had backed Lem 
Parraday in applying for a liquor license, to bene- 
fit his own pocket. It had to be a good reason 
indeed, to change Mr. Moore’s attitude on the 
liquor selling question. 

The hotel barroom held great attractions for 
many of Cross Moore’s supporters, although Mr. 
Moore himself seldom stepped into that part of the 
hotel. The politician did not trust Lem Parraday 
to represent him, for Lem was “no wiser than 
the law allows,” to quote his neighbors. But Joe 
Bodley, the young barkeeper, imported from the 
city, was just the sort of fellow Cross Moore 
could use. 

And about this time Joe Bodley was in a posi- 
271 


272 


How Janice Day Won 


tion where his fingers ‘‘itched for the feel of 
money.’' Not other people’s money, but his own. 
He had scraped together all he had saved, and 
drawn ahead on his wages, to make up the hundred 
dollars paid Hopewell Drugg for the violin, and 

“Seems ter me that old fiddle is what they call 
a sticker, ain’t it, ’stead of a Straddlevarious?” 
chuckled Walky Dexter, referring to the instrument 
hanging on the wall behind Joe’s head. 

“Oh, I’ll get my money back on it,” Bodley re- 
plied, with studied carelessness. “Maybe I’ll raffle 
it off.” 

“Not here in Polktown ye won’t,” said the ex- 
pressman. “Yeou might as well try ter raffle off a 
white elephant.” 

“Pshaw! of course not. But a fine fiddle like 
that — a real Cremona — will bring a pretty penny 
in the city. There, Walky, roll that barrel right 
into this corner behind the bar. I’ll have to put 
a spigot in it soon. Might’s well do it now. ’Tis 
the real Simon-pure article, Walky. Have a snif- 
ter?” 

“On the haouse?” queried Walky, briskly. 

“Sure. It’s a tin roof,” laughed Bodley. 

“Much obleeged ter ye,” said Walky. “As yer 
so pressin’ — don’t mind if I do. A glass of sars’p’- 
rilla’ll do me.” 

“What’s the matter with yoii' lately, Walky?” 
demanded the barkeeper, pouring the non-alcoholic 


273 


The Tempest 

drink with no very good grace. ‘‘Lost your taste 
for a man’s drink?” 

“Sort o’,” replied Walky, calmly. “Here’s your 
health, Joe. I thought you had that fiddle sold 
before you went to Hopewell arter it?” 

“To tell ye the truth, Walky ” 

“Don’t do it if it hurts ye, Joe. Haw! haw!” 

The barkeeper made a wry face and continued: 

“That feller I got it for, only put up a part of 
the price. I thought he was a square sport; but 
he ain’t. When he got a squint at the old fiddle 
while Hopewell was down here playing for the 
dance, he was just crazy to buy it. Any old price, 
he said! After I got it,” proceeded Joe, ruefully, 
“he tries to tell me it ain’t worth even what I paid 
for it.” 

“Wal — ’tain’t, is it?” said Walky, bluntly. 

“If it’s worth a hundred it’s worth a hundred 
and fifty,” said the barkeeper doggedly. 

“Ya-as — if/" murmured the expressman. 

“However, nobody’s going to get it for any less 
— believe me! Least of all that Fontaine. I hate 
these Kanucks, anyway. I know him. He’s try- 
ing to jew me down,” said Joe, angrily. 

“Wal, you take it to the city,” advised Walky. 
“You kin make yer spec on it there, ye say.” 

There was a storm cloud drifting across Old Ti 
as the expressman climbed to his wagon seat and 
drove away from the Inn. It had been a very hot 


274 


How Janice Day Won 


day and was now late afternoon — just the hour for 
a summer tempest. 

The tiny waves lapped the loose shingle along the 
lake shore. There was the hot smell of over-cured 
grass on the uplands. The flower beds along the 
hilly street which Janice Day mounted after a 
visit to the Namays, were quite scorched now. 

This street brought Janice out by the Lake View 
Inn. She, too, saw the threatening cloud and has- 
tened her steps. Sharp lightnings flickered along 
its lower edge, lacing it with pale blue and saffron. 
The mutter of the thunder in the distance was like 
a heavy cannonade. 

“Maybe it sounded so years and years ago when 
the British and French fought over there, Janice 
thought. “How these hills must have echoed to the 
roll of the guns! And when Ethan Allen and his 
Green Mountain Boys discharged the guns in a 
salvo of thanksgiving over Old Ti’s capture — Oh! 
is that you. Nelson? How you startled me.’' 

For the young schoolmaster had come up the hill 
behind her at a breathless gait. “We’ve got to 
hurry,” he said. “That’s going to be what Marty 
would call a ‘humdinger’ of a storm, Janice.” 

“Dear me! I didn’t know you were in town,” 
she said happily. 

“We got the last of the hay in this morning,’' 
said the bronzed young fellow, .smiling. “I helped 
mow away and the elder was kind enough to say 


275 


The Tempest 

that I had done well and could have the rest of 
the day to myself. I fancy the shrewd old fellow 
knew it was about to rain/’ and he laughed. 

'^And how came you down this way?” Janice 
asked. 

‘'Followed your trail,” laughed Nelson. I went 
in to Mrs. Beaseley’s of course. “And then at 
Drugg’s I learned you had gone down to see Jim 
Narnay’s folks. But I didn’t catch you there. 
Goodness, Janice, but they are a miserable lot! 
I shouldn’t think you could bear to go there.” 

“Oh, Nelson, the poor little baby — it is so sick 
and it cheers Mrs. Narnay up a little if I call on 
her. Besides, Sophie and the little boys are just 
as cunning as they can be. I can’t help sympathiz- 
ing with them.” 

“Do save some of your sympathy for other folks, 
Janice,” said Nelson, rather ruefully. “You ought 
to have seen the blisters I had on my hands the 
first week or two I was a farmer.” . 

“Oh, Nelson! That’s too bad,” she cried, with 
solicitude. 

“Too late!” he returned, laughing. “They are 
callouses now — marks of honest toil. Whew! see 
that dust-cloud!” 

The wind had ruffled the lake in a wide strip, 
right across to the eastern shore. Whitecaps were 
dancing upon the surface and the waves ran a long 
way up the beach. The wind, rushing ahead of the 


276 


How Janice Day Won 


rain-cloud, caught up the dust in the streets and 
advanced across the town. 

Janice hid her face against the sleeve of her 
light frock. Nelson led her by the hand as the chok- 
ing cloud passed over. Then the rain, in fitful 
gusts at first, pelted them so sharply that the girl 
cried out. 

'Dh, Nelson, it’s like hail!” she gasped. 

A vivid flash of lightning cleaved the cloud ; the 
thunder-peal drowned the schoolmaster’s reply. But 
Janice felt herself fairly caught up in his arms and 
he mounted some steps quickly. A voice shouted : 

‘‘Bring her right this way, school teacher ! Right 
in here!” 

It was Lem Parraday’s voice. They had mounted 
the side porch of the Inn and when Janice opened 
her eyes she was in the barroom. The proprietor 
of the Inn slammed to the door against the thunder- 
ous rush of the breaking storm. The rain dashed 
in torrents against the house. The blue flashes of 
electricity streaked the windows constantly, while 
the roll and roar of the thunder almost deafened 
those in the darkened barroom. 

Joe Bodley was behind the bar briskly serving 
customers. He nodded familiarly to Janice, and 
said : 

“Bad storm. Miss. Glad to see you. You ain’t 
entirely a stranger here, eh ?” ' ’ 

“Shut up, Joe!” commanded Mr. Parraday, as 


The Tempest 


277 


Janice flushed and the schoolmaster took a threaten- 
ing step toward the bar. 

*'Oh, all right, Boss,” giggled the barkeeper. 
“What’s yours. Mister?” he asked Nelson Haley. 

A remarkable clap of thunder drowned Nelson’s 
reply. Perhaps it was as well. And as the heavy 
roll of the report died away, they heard a series 
of shrieks somewhere in the upper part of the 
house. 

“What in good gracious is the matter now?” 
gasped Lem Parraday, hastening out of the bar- 
room. 

Again a blinding flash of light lit up the room 
for an instant. It played upon the fat features of 
Joe Bodley — pallidly upon the faces of his cus- 
tomers. Some of them had shrunk away from the 
bar; some were ashamed to be seen there by Janice 
and the schoolmaster. 

The thunder discharged another rolling report, 
shaking the house in its wrath. The rain beat down 
in torrents. Janice and Nelson could not leave 
the place while the storm was at its height, and 
for the moment, neither thought of going into the 
dining room. 

Again and again the lightning flashed and the 
thunder broke above the tavern. It was almost as 
though the fury of the tempest was centered at 
the Lake View Inn. Janice, frankly clinging to 


278 


How Janice Day Won 


Nelson’s hand, cowered when the tempest rose to 
these extreme heights. 

Echoing another peal of thunder once again a 
scream from within the house startled the girl. 
‘‘Oh, Nelson! what’s that?” 

“Gee! I believe Marm Parraday’s on the ram- 
page,” exclaimed Joe Bodley, with a silly smile on 
his face. 

The door from the hall flew open. In the dusky 
opening the woman’s lean and masculine form 
looked wondrous tall ; her hollow eyes burned with 
unnatural fire; her thin and trembling lips writhed 
pitifully. 

With her coming another awful flash and crash 
illumined the room and shook the roof tree of the 
Inn. 

“It’s come ! it’s come !” she said, advancing into 
the room. Her face shone in the pallid, flickering 
light of the intermittent flashes, and the loafers at 
the bar shrank away from her advance. 

“I told ye how ’twould be, Lem Parraday !” cried 
the tavern keeper’s wife. “This is the end! This 
is the end !” 

Another stroke of thunder rocked the house. 
Marm Parraday fell on her knees in the sawdust 
and raised her clasped hands wildly. The act loos- 
ened her stringy gray hair and it fell down upon her 
shoulders. A wilder looking creature Janice Day 
had never imagined. 


279 


The Tempest 

‘‘Almighty Father !’’ burst from the quivering lips 
of the poor woman. “Almighty Father, help us!’' 

“She’s prayin’!” gasped a trembling voice back 
in the shrinking crowd. 

“Help us and save us !” groaned the woman, her 
face and clasped hands uplifted. “We hear Thy 
awful voice. We see the flash of Thy anger. Ah !” 

The thunder rolled again — ominously, suddenly, 
while the casements rattled from its vibrations. 

^'Forgive Lem and these other men for what they 
air doin\ 0 LordT was the next phrase the 
startled spectators heard. '‘They don't deserve Thy 
forgiveness — hut overlook 'em!" 

The Voice in the heavens answered again and 
drowned her supplication. One man screamed — a, 
shrill, high neigh like that of a hurt horse. Janice 
caught a momentary glimpse of the pallid face of 
Joe Bodley shrinking below the edge of the counter. 
There was no leer upon his fat face now; it ex- 
pressed nothing but terror. 

Lem Parraday entered hastily. He caught his 
wife by her thin shoulders just as she pitched for- 
ward. “Now, now, Marm! This ain’t no way to 
act,” he said, soothingly. 

The thunder muttered in the distance. Suddenly 
the flickering lightning seemed less threatening. As 
quickly as it had burst, the tempest passed away. 

“My jimminy! She’s fainted,” Lem Parraday 
murmured, lifting the woman in his strong arms. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE ENEMY RETREATS 

As THE Summer advanced visitors flocked to 
Polktown. From the larger and better known tour- 
ist resorts on the New York side of the lake, small 
parties had ventured into Polktown during the two 
previous seasons. Now news of the out-of-the-way, 
old-fashioned hamlet had spread; and by the end 
of July the Lake View Inn was comfortably filled, 
and most people who were willing to take “city 
folks” to board had all the visitors they could 
take care of. 

“But I dunno's we're goin' to make much by 
havin’ sech a crowd,” Lem Parraday complained. 
“With marm sick nothin’ seems ter go right. Sech 
waste in the kitchen I never did see! An’ if I say 
a word, or look skew- jawed at them women, they 
threaten ter up an’ leave me in a bunch.” 

For Marm Parraday, by Dr. Poole’s orders, had 
been taken out into the country to her sister’s, and 
told to stay there till cool weather came. 

“If you are bound to run a rum-hole, Lem,” said 
the plain-spoken doctor, “don’t. expect a woman in 
her condition to help you run it.” 

280 


The Enemy Retreats 


281 


Lem thought it hard — and he looked for sym- 
pathy among his neighbors. He got what he was 
looking for, but of rather doubtful quality. 

“I cartainly do wish marm’d git well — or sum- 
pin’,” he said one day in Walky Dexter’s hearing. 
“I don’t see how a man’s expected to run a /^^?-tel 
without a woman to help him. It beats me!” 

“It’ll be siimpin' that happens ter ye, I reckon,” 
observed Walky, drily. “Sure as yeou air a fut 
high, Lem. In the Fall. Beware the Ides o’ 
September, as the feller says. Only mebbe I ain’t 
got jest the month right. Haw! haw! haw!” 

Town Meeting Day was in September. The call 
had already been issued, and included in it was the 
amendment calling for no license in Polktown — 
the new ordinance, if passed, to take immediate 
effect. 

The campaign for prohibition was continued de- 
spite the influx of Summer visitors. Indeed, be- 
cause of them the battle against liquor selling grew 
hotter. Not so many “city folks” as the hotel- 
keeper and his friends expected, desired to see a 
bar in the old-fashioned community. Especially 
after the first pay day of the gang working on the 
branch of the V. C. Road. When the night was 
made hideous and the main street of Polktown dan- 
gerous for quiet people, by drink-inflamed fellows 
from the railroad construction camp, a strong pro- 
test was addressed to the Town Selectmen. 


282 


How Janice Day Won 


There was a possibility of several well-to-do men 
building on the heights above the town, another 
season. Uncle Jason had a chance to sell his sheep- 
lot at such a price that his cupidity was fully 
aroused. But the buyer did not care to close the 
bargain if the town went “wet” in the Fall. Natu- 
rally Mr. Day’s interest in prohibition increased 
mightily. 

The visiting young people would have liked to 
hold dances in Lem Parraday’s big room at the 
Inn. But gently bred girls did not care to go 
where liquor was sold ; so the dancing parties of the 
better class were held in the Odd Fellows Hall. 

The recurrent temperance meetings which had 
at first been held in the Town House had to seek 
other quarters early in the campaign. Mr. Cross 
Moore “lifted his finger” and the councilmen voted 
to allow the Town Hall to be used for no such 
purpose. 

However, warm weather having come, in a week 
the Campaign Committee obtained a big tent, set 
it up on the old circus grounds behind Major 
Price’s place, somewhat curtailing the boys’ base- 
ball field, and the temperance meetings were held 
not only once a week, but thrice weekly. 

The tent meetings became vastly popular. When 
Nelson Haley, urged by the elder, made his first 
speech in the campaign, Polktown awoke as never 


The Enemy Retreats 


283 


before to the fact that their schoolmaster had a 
gift of oratory not previously suspected. 

And, perhaps as much as anything, that speech 
raised public opinion to a height Avhich could be 
no longer ignored by the School Committee. There 
was an unveiled demand in the Polktown column 
of the Middletown Courier that Nelson Haley 
should be appointed teacher of the graded school 
for the ensuing year. 

Even Mr. Cross Moore saw that the time had 
come for him and his comrades on the committee 
to back down completely from their position. It 
was the only thing that would save them from 
being voted out of office at the coming election 
— and perhaps that would happen anyway! 

Before the Summer was over the request, signed 
by the five committeemen, came to Nelson that he 
take up his duties from which he had asked to be 
relieved in the Spring. 

“It’s a victory!” cried Janice, happily. “Oh, Nel- 
son ! Fm so glad.” 

But there was an exceedingly bitter taste on 
Nelson Haley’s lips. He shook his head and could 
not smile. The accusation against his character 
still stood. He had been accused of stealing the 
collection of coins, and he had never been able to 
disprove the charge. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE TRUTH AT LAST 

Daddy had not written for nearly two months. 
At least, no letter from him had reached Janice. 
The Day family in Polktown had not gone into 
mourning in the Spring and Aunt ’Mira gloried in 
a most astonishing plum-colored silk with “r’yal 
purple” trimmings. Nevertheless, Janice had now 
all but given up hope for her father’s life. 

The uncertainty connected with his fate was very 
hard for the young girl to bear. She had the 
thought with her all the time — a picture in her mind 
of a man, blindfolded, his wrists fastened behind 
him, standing with his back against a sunburnt 
wall and a file of ragged, barefooted soldiers in 
front of him. 

In desperation she had written a letter addressed 
personally to ^‘General Juan Dicampa,” sending it 
to the same place to which she addressed her 
father’s letters. She did this almost in fear of 
the consequences. Who would read her letter now 
that the guerrilla chief was dead? 

In the appeal Janice pleaded for her father’s 
life and for news of him. Days passed and there 
284 


The Truth at Last 


285 


was no reply. But the letter, with her name and ad- 
dress on the outside, was not returned to her. 

Broxton Day’s fate was discussed no more be- 
fore Janice at home. And other people who knew 
of her trouble, save Nelson Haley, soon forgot it. 
For the girl did not ‘‘wear her heart on her sleeve.’’ 

As for the Druggs — Hopewell and his wife — • 
they were so worried about little Lottie’s case that 
they had thought for nobody’s troubles but their 
own. 

The doctors would not let the child return to 
Polktown at present. They kept her all through 
the Summer, watching her case. And Lottie, at a 
Summer school in Boston, was enjoying herself 
hugely. She was not yet at an age to worry much 
about the future. 

These months of Lottie’s absence were weary 
ones indeed for her father. Sometimes he wan- 
dered about the store quite distraught. ’Rill was 
worried about him. He missed the solace of his 
violin and refused to purchase a cheap instrument 
to take the place of the one he had been obliged 
to sacrifice. 

^‘No, Miss Janice,” he told the girl once, when 
she spoke of this. 'T could not play another in- 
strument. I am no musician. I was never trained. 
It was just a natural talent that I developed, be- 
cause I found in my heart a love for the old violin 
my father had played so many years. 


286 


How Janice Day Won 


“Through its vibrant strings I expressed deeper 
feelings than I could ever express in any other 
way — or upon any other instrument. My lips would 
never have dared tell my love for ’Rill/' and he 
smiled in his gentle way, ‘‘half so boldly as my 
violin told it! Ask her. She will tell you that 
my violin courted her — not Hopewell Drugg.” 

“Oh, it is too, too bad!” cried Janice. “And 
that fellow down at Lem Parraday’s hotel has never 
succeeded in disposing of the fiddle. I wish he 
would sell it back to you.” 

“I could not buy it at the price he gave me for 
it,” said Hopewell, sadly shaking his head. “No 
use to think of it.” 

But Janice thought of it — ^and thought of it 
often. If daddy were only — only successful again! 
That is the way she put it in her mind. If he could 
only send her some more money ! There was many 
a thing Janice Day needed, or wanted. But she 
thought that she would deny herself much for the 
sake of recovering the violin for Hopewell Drugg. 

Meanwhile nothing further had come to light 
regarding the missing collection of gold coins. No 
third coin had been put into circulation — in Polk- 
town, at least. The four school committeemen who 
were responsible for the collection had long since 
paid the owner out of their own pockets rather than 
be put to further expense in law. 

Jim Namay’s baby was growing weaker and 


The Truth at Last 


287 


weaker. The little thing had been upon the verge 
of passing on so many times, that her parents had 
grown skeptical of the doctor’s prophecy — that she 
could not live out the Summer. 

It seemed to Janice, however, that the little body 
was frailer, the little face wanner, the tiny smile 
more pitiful, each time she went to Pine Cove to 
see the baby. Nelson, who had come back to town 
and again taken up his abode with the overjoyed 
Mrs. Beaseley while he prepared for the opening of 
the school, urged Janice not to go so often to the 
Narnay cottage. 

‘'You’ve enough on your heart and mind, dear 
girl,” he said to her. “Why burden yourself with 
other people’s troubles?” 

“Why — do you know. Nelson,” she told him, 
thoughtfully, “that is one of the things I have 
learned of late.” 

“What is one of the things you have learned?” 

“I have been learning, Nelson, that the more we 
share other people’s burdens the less weight our 
own assume. It’s wonderful! When I am think- 
ing of the poor little Narnay baby, I am not think- 
ing of daddy away down there in Mexico. And 
when I am worrying about little Lottie Drugg — or 
even about Hopewell’s lost violin — I am not think- 
ing about those awful gold coins and who could 
have taken them ” 

“Here! here, young woman!” exclaimed the 


288 


How Janice Day Won 


schoolmaster, stopping short and shaking his head 
at her. *^Thafs certainly not your personal 
trouble.” 

‘Dh, but, Nelson,” she said shyly. ‘‘Whatever 
troubles you must trouble me quite as though it were 
my really, truly own !” 

What Nelson might have said, right there on 
Hillside Avenue, too — even what he might have 
done ! — ^will never be known; for here Marty sud- 
denly appeared running wildly and shrieking at 
the top of his lungs for them to stop. 

“Hi! hi! what’s the matter wi’ you folks?” he 
yelled, his face, red, and his breath fairly gasping 
in his throat. “I been yellin’ after ye all down 
High Street. Look what I found !” 

“Looks like a newspaper, Marty,” said Nelson, 
calmly. 

*'But what is in it?” cried Janice, turning pale. 

Nelson seized the paper and held it open. He 
read rapidly: 

“ ‘Great battle fought southwest of Chihuahua. 
Federal forces thoroughly whipped. Rebels led by 
the redoubtable General Juan Dicampa, whose re- 
ported death last Spring was only a ruse to blind 
the eyes of the Federals to his movements. At the 
head of a large force of regular troops and Yaqui 
Indians, Dicampa fell upon the headquarters of 
General Cesta, capturing or killing his entire com- 


The Truth at Last 


289 


mand, and becoming possessed of quantities of 
munition and a great store of supplies. A telling 
blow that may bring about the secure establish- 
ment oi 2i de facto government in our ensanguined 
sister Republic.’ 

‘‘Goodness me, Janice! what do you think of 
that? There is a lot more of it, too.” 

“Then — if Juan Dicampa is not dead ” be- 

gan the girl. 

“Sure, Uncle Brocky ain’t dead !” finished Marty. 

“At least, dear girl,” said Nelson, sympathetic- 
ally, “there is every reason to believe that what 
Marty says is true.” 

“Oh, I can hope! I can hope again!” she mur- 
mured. “And, perhaps — who knows. Nelson? — 
perhaps my own great trouble is going to melt away 
and be no more, just like last Winter’s snow ! Per- 
haps daddy is safe, and will come home.” 

“I wish my difficulties promised as quick a solu- 
tion, Janice,” said Nelson, shaking his head. “But 
I am glad for you, my dear.” 

Marty ran ahead with the paper to spread the 
good news of Uncle Brocky’s probable safety. 
Janice and Nelson were not destined to be left to 
their own devices for long, however. As they 
slowly mounted the pleasant and shady street there 
was the rattle of wheels behind them, and a master- 
ful voice said : 


290 How Janice Day Won 

“Whoa! That you, Schoolmaster? How-do, 

Janice.” 

“Dr. Poole!” they cried, as one. 

“Bad news for you, Janice,” said the red-faced 
doctor, in his brush way. “Know youTe interested 
in that Namay youngster. I’ve just come from 
there. I’ve got to go half way to Bristol to set 
a feller’s leg. They telephoned me. Before I could 
get there and back that Narnay baby is going to 
be out of the reach of all my pills and powders.” 

He did not say it harshly; it was Dr. Poole’s way 
to be brush. 

“Oh, Doctor! Will it surely die?” 

“Not two hours to live — positively,” said the 
physician, gathering up the reins. “I’m sorry for 
Jim. If the fellow is a drunkard, he is mighty 
tender-hearted when it comes to kids — and he’s 
sober,” he added, under his breath. 

“Is he there?” asked Janice, quickly. 

“No. Hasn’t been in town for two weeks. Up 
in the woods somewhere. It will break him all 
up in business, I expect. I told you, for I didn’t 
know but you’d want to go down and see the 
woman.” 

“Thank you. Doctor,” Janice said, as the chaise 
rattled away. But she did not turn back down the 
hill. Instead, she quickened her steps in the op- 
posite direction. 

“Well! I am glad for once you are not going to 


The Truth at Last 


291 


wear yourself out with other people’s troubles,” 
said Nelson, looking sideways at her. 

“Poor Mr. Namay,” said the girl. “I am going 
after him. He must see the baby before she dies.” 

“Janice !” 

“Yes. The car is all ready, I know. It will 
take only half an hour to run up there where 
those men are at work. I took Elder Concannon 
over there once. The road isn’t bad at all at this 
time of year.” 

“Do you mean you are going clear over the moun- 
tain after that drunken Namay?” demanded Nel- 
son, with some heat. 

“I am going after the baby’s father. Nelson,” 
she replied softly. “You may go, too, if you are 
real good,” and she smiled up at him so roguishly 
that his frown was dissipated and he had to smile 
in return. 

They reached the Day house shortly and Janice 
hurried in for her dust-coat and goggles. Marty 
offered his own cap and “blinders,” as he called 
them, to the schoolmaster. 

“You’ll sure need ’em, Mr. Haley, if you go 
with Janice, and she’s drivin’. I b’lieve she said she 
w^as in a hurry,” and he grinned as he opened the 
garage door and ran the Kremlin out upon the 
gravel. 

The automobile moved out of the yard and took 
the steep hill easily. Once on the Upper Road, 


292 


How Janice Day Won 


Janice urged the car on and they passed Elder Con- 
cannon’s in a cloud of dust. 

The camp where the baby’s father was at work 
was easily found. Jim Narnay seemed to know 
what the matter was, for he flung down the axe 
he was using and was first of the three at the side of 
the car when Janice stopped. Mr. Trimmins 
sauntered up, too, but the sullen Jack Besmith 
seemed to shrink from approaching the visitors. 

‘T will get you there if possible in time to see 
the baby once more, Mr. Narnay, if you will come 
right along as you are,” said Janice, commiserat- 
ingly, after explaining briefly their errand. “Dr. 
Poole told me the time was short.” 

“Go ahead, Jim,” said Trimmins, giving the 
man’s hand a grip. “Miss Day, you sartain sure 
are a good neighbor.” 

Janice turned the car as soon as Narnay was in 
the tonneau. The man sat clinging with one hand 
to the rail and with the other over his face most 
of the way to town. 

Speed had to be reduced when they turned into 
High Street; but Constable Poley Cantor turned 
his back on them as they swung around the comer 
into the street leading directly down to Pine Cove. 

Janice left Nelson in the car at the door, and 
ran into the cottage with the anxious father. Mrs. 
Namay sat with the child on her lap, rocking her- 
self slowly to and fro, and weeping. The children 


The Truth at Last 


293 


— even Sophie — made a scared little group in the 
corner. 

The woman looked up and saw her husband. 
‘'Oh, Jim!” she said. “Ain't it too bad? She — 
she didn’t know you was cornin’. She — she’s jest 
died.” 

Janice was crying frankly when she came out 
of the house a few minutes afterward. Nelson, 
seeing her tears, sprang out of the car and hastened 
up the ragged walk to meet her. 

“Janice!” he exclaimed and put his arm around 
her shoulders, stooping a little to see into her face. 
“Don’t cry, child ! Is — is it dead ?” 

Janice nodded. Jim Narnay came to the door. 
His bloated, bearded face was working with emo- 
tion. He saw the tenderness with which Nelson 
Haley led the girl to the car. 

The heavy tread of the man sounded behind the 
young folk as Nelson helped Janice into the car, 
preparing himself to drive her home. 

“I say — I say. Miss Janice,” stammered Narnay. 

She wiped her eyes and turned quickly, in sym- 
pathy, to the broken man. 

“I will surely see Mr. Middler, Mr. Narnay. 
And tell your wife there will be a few flowers sent 
down — and some other things. I — I know you will 
remain and be — be helpful to her, Mr. Narnay?” 

“Yes, I will. Miss,” said Narnay. His bleared 


294 


How Janice Day Won 


eyes gazed first on the young girl and then on Haley. 
“I beg your pardon, Miss,” he added. 

'‘What is it, Mr. Narnay?” asked Janice. 

“Mebbe Td better tell it ter schoolmaster,” said 
the man, his lips working. He drew the back 
of his hand across them to hide their quivering. 
“I know something mebbe Mr. Haley would like 
to hear.” 

“What is it, Narnay?” asked Nelson, kindly. 

“I — I 1 hear folks says ye stole them gold 

coins out of the schoolhouse.” 

Nelson looked startled, but Janice almost sprang 
out of her seat. “Oh, Jim Narnay!” she cried, 
“can you clear Mr. Haley? Do you know who 
did it?” 

“I see you — ^you and schoolmaster air fond of 
each other,” said the man. “I never before went 
back on a pal; but you’ve been mighty good to me 
an’ mine. Miss Janice, and — and I’m goin’ to tell.” 

Nelson could not speak. Janice, however, wanted 
to cry aloud in her delight. “I knew you could 
explain it all, Mr. Narnay, but I didn’t know that 
you would” she said. 

“You knowed I could tell it?” demanded the 
startled Narnay. 

“Ever since that five dollar gold piece rolled out 
of your pocket — yes,” she said, and no more to 
Narnay’s amazement than to Nelson’s, for she had 
told the schoolmaster nothing about that incident. 


The Truth at Last 


295 


‘‘My mercy, Miss! Did you git that five dollar 
coin?” demanded Narnay. 

“Yes. Right here on your porch. The Sunday 
you were at home.” 

“And I thought Fd lost it. I didn’t take the 
whiskey back to the boys, and Jack’s been say in’ 
all the time I double-crossed him. Says I must 
ha’ spent the money for booze and drunk it meself. 
And mebbe I would of — if I hadn’t lost the five,” 
admitted Narnay, wagging his head. 

“But I don’t understand,” broke in Nelson Haley. 

Janice touched his arm warningly. “But you 
didn’t lose the ten dollar coin he gave you before 
that to change at Lem Parraday’s, Mr. Narnay?” 
she said slyly. 

“I guess ye do know about it,” said the man, 
eyeing Janice curiously. “I can’t tell you much, I 
guess. Only, you air wrong about me passin’ the 
first coin. Jack did that himself — and brought 
back to camp a two gallon jug of liquor.” 

*'Jack Besmithr gasped the school teacher, the 
light dawning in his mind. 

“Yes,” said Narnay. “Me and Trimmins has 
knowed it for a long time. We wormed it out o’ 
Jack when he was drunk. But he was putting up 
for the stuff right along, so we didn’t tell. He’s got 
most of the money hid away somewhere — we don’t 
know where. 

“He told us he saw the stuff up at Massey’s the 


296 


How Janice Day Won 


night before he stole it. He went there to try to 
get his job back, and seen Massey puttin' the 
trays of coin into his safe. He knowed they was 
goin' down to the schoolhouse in the mornin’. 

“He got drunk,” pursued Narnay. “He didn’t 
go home all night. Early in the mornin’ he woke 
up in a shed, and went back to town. It was so 
early that little Benny Thread (that’s Jack’s 
brother-in-law) was just goin’ into the basement 
door of the schoolhouse to ’tend to his fire. 

“Jack says he slipped in behind him and hid up- 
stairs in a clothes closet. He thought he’d maybe 
break open the teacher’s desk and see if there wasn’t 
some money in it, if he didn’t git a chance at them 
coins. But that was too easy. The committee left 
the coins right out open in the committee room, 
and Jack grabbed up the trays, took ’em to the 
clothes room., and emptied them into the linin’ of 
his coat, and into his pants’ pockets. They was 
a load! 

“So, after the teacher come into the buildin’ and 
went out again. Jack put back the trays, slipped 
downstairs, dodged Benny and the four others, 
and went out at the basement door. Benny’s al- 
ways swore that door was locked; but it’s only a 
spring lock and easy enough opened from inside. 

“That — that’s all, I guess,” added Narnay, in 
a shamefaced way. “Jack backed that load of gold 
coin ’clean out to our camp. And he hid ’em all 


The Truth at Last 


297 


b’fore we ever suspected he had money. We don’t 
know now where his cache is ” 

“Oh, Nelson!” burst out Janice, seizing both the 
schoolmaster’s hands. “The truth at last!” 

“Ye — ye’ve been so good to us. Miss Janice,” 
blubbered Narnay, “I couldn’t bear to see the young 
man in trouble no longer — and you thinkin’ as much 
as you do of him ” 

“If I have done anything at all for you or yours, 
Mr. Narnay,” sobbed Janice, “you have more than 
repaid me — over and over again you have repaid 
me! Do stay here with your wife and the chil- 
dren. I am going to send Mr. Middler right down. 
Let’s drive on. Nelson.” 

The teacher started the car. “And to think,” he 
said softly when the Kremlin had climbed the hill 
and struck smoother going, “that I have been op- 
posed to your doing anything for these Narnay s 
all the time, Janice. Yet because you were kind, I 
am saved! It — it is wonderful!” 

“Oh, no. Nelson. It is only what might have 
been expected,” said Janice, softly. 


CHAPTER XXX 


MARM PARRADAY DOES HER DUTY 

It was on the day following the burial of the 
Narnay baby that the mystery surrounding Mr. 
Broxton Day’s situation in Mexico was quite cleared 
up, and much to his daughter’s satisfaction. Quite 
a packet of letters arrived for Janice — several de- 
layed epistles, indeed, coming in a single wrapper. 

With them was a letter in the exact script of 
Juan Dicampa — that mysterious brigand chief who 
was Mr. Day’s friend — and couched in much the 
same flowery phraseology as the former note Jan- 
ice had received. It read : 

“Sefiorita : — 

“I fain would beg thy pardon — and that most 
humbly — for my seeming slight of thy appeal, 
which reached my headquarters when your humble 
servant was busily engaged elsewhere. Thy father, 
the Senor B. Day, is safe. He has never for a 
moment been in danger. The embargo is now 
lifted and he may write to thee, sweet senorita, as 
he may please. The enemy has been driven from 
this fair section of my troubled land, and the smile 
298 


Marm Parraday Does Her Duty 299 

of peace rests upon us as it rests upon you, dear 
senorita. Adios. 

“Faithfully thine, 

“Juan Dicampa/^ 

“Such a strangely boyish letter to come from a 
bloodthirsty bandit — for such they say he is. And 
he is father’s friend,” sighed Janice, showing the 
letter to Nelson Haley. “Oh, dear! I wish daddy 
would leave that hateful old mine and come home.” 

Nevertheless, daddy’s return — or his abandon- 
ment of the mine — did not appear imminent. Good 
news indeed was in Mr. Broxton Day’s most re- 
cent letters. The way to the border for ore trains 
was again open. For six weeks he had had a large 
force of peons at work in the mine and a great 
amount of ore had been shipped. 

There was in the letter a certificate of deposit 
for several hundred dollars, and the promise of 
more in the near future. 

“You must be pretty short of feminine furbelows 
by this time. Be good to yourself, Janice,” wrote 
Mr. Day. 

But his daughter, though possessing her share 
of feminine vanity in dress, saw first another use 
for a part of this unexpected windfall. She said 
nothing to a soul but Walky Dexter, however. It 
was to be a secret between them. 

There was so much going on in Polktown just 


300 


How Janice Day Won 


then that Walky could keep a secret, as he confessed 
himself, ‘‘without half trying.” 

“Nelson Haley openin’ aour school and takin’ 
up the good work ag’in where he laid it daown, 
is suthin’ that oughter be noted a-plenty,” declared 
Mr. Dexter. “And I will say for ’em, that com- 
mittee reinstated him before anybody heard any- 
thin’ abeout Jack Besmith havin’ stole the gold 
coins. 

“Sure enough!” went on Walky, “that’s another 
thing that kin honestly be laid to Lem Parraday’s 
openin’ that bar at the Inn. That’s where Jack 
got the liquor that twisted his brain, that led him 

astray, that made him a thief Jefers-pelters! 

sounds jest like ‘The Haouse That Jack Built,’ don’t 
it? But poor Jack Besmith has sartainly built him 
a purty poor haouse. And there’s steel bars at the 
winders of it — ^poor feller!” 

However, it was Nelson Haley himself who used 
the story of Jack Besmith most tellingly, and for 
the cause of temperance. As the young fellow 
had owned to the crime when taxed with it, and had 
returned most of the coins of the collection, he was 
recommended to the mercy of the court. But all 
of Polktown knew of the lad’s shame. 

Therefore, Nelson Haley felt free to take the 
incident — and nobody had been more vitally inter- 
ested in it than himself — for the text of a speech 


Marm Parraday Does Her Duty 301 


that he made in the big tent only a week or so 
before Town Meeting Day. 

Nelson stood up before the audience and told 
the story simply — told of the robbery and of how 
he had felt when he was accused of it, sketching 
his own agony and shame while for weeks and 
months he had not been under suspicion. “I did not 
believe the bad influence of liquor selling could 
touch me, because I had nothing to do with it/' 
he said. '‘But I have seen the folly of that opinion.^’ 

He pointed out, too, the present remorse and 
punishment of young Jack Besmith. Then he told 
them frankly that the blame for all — for Jack’s 
misdeed, his own suffering, and the criminal’s final 
situation — lay upon the consciences of the men who 
had made liquor selling in Polktown possible. 

•It was an arraignment that stung. Those deeply 
interested in the cause of prohibition cheered Nel- 
son to the echo. But one man who sat well back 
in the audience, his hat pulled over his eyes, and 
apparently an uninterested listener, slipped out 
after Nelson’s talk and walked and fought his con- 
science the greater part of that night. 

Somehow the school teacher’s talk— or was it 
Janice Day’s scorn? — had touched Mr. Cross Moore 
in a vulnerable part. 

Had the Summer visitors to Polktown been vo- 
ters, there would have been little doubt of the Town 
Meeting voting the hamlet “dry.” But there seemed 


302 


How Janice Day Won 


to be a large number of men determined not to 
have their liberties, so-called, interfered with. 

Lem Parraday’s bar had become a noisy place. 
Some fights had occurred in the horse sheds, too. 
And on the nights the railroad construction gang 
came over to spend their pay, the village had 
to have extra police protection. 

Frank Bowman was doing his best with his men ; 
but they were a rough set and he had hard work 
to control them. The engineer was a never-fail- 
ing help in the temperance meetings, and nobody 
was more joyful over the clearing up of Nelson 
Haley’s affairs than he. 

“You have done some big things these past few 
months, Janice Day,” he said with emphasis. 

“Nonsense, Frank ! No more than other people,” 
she declared. 

“Well, I guess you have,” he proclaimed, with 
twinkling eyes, “Just think! You’ve brought out 
the truth about that lost coin collection; you’ve 
saved Hopewell Drugg from becoming a regular 
reprobate — at least, so says his mother-in-law; 
you’ve converted Walky Dexter from his habit of 
taking a ‘snifter’ ” 

“Oh, no!” laughed Janice. “Josephus converted 
Walky.” 

Save at times when he had. to deliver freight 
or express to the hotel, the village expressman 
had very little business to take him near Lem Par- 


Marm Parraday Does Her Duty 303 

raday’s bar nowadays. However, because of that 
secret between Janice and himself, Walky ap- 
proached the Inn one evening with the avowed 
purpose of speaking to Joe Bodley. 

Marm Parraday had returned home that very 
day — ^and she had returned a different woman from 
what she was when she went away. The Inn was 
already being conducted on a Winter basis, for 
most of the Summer boarders had flitted. There 
were few patrons now save those who hung around 
the bar. 

Walky, entering by the front door instead of 
the side entrance, came upon Lem and his wife 
standing in the hall. Marm Parraday still had 
her bonnet on. She was grimly in earnest as she 
talked to Lem — so much in earnest, indeed, that she 
never noticed the expressman’s greeting. 

‘That’s what I’ve come home for, Lem Parra- 
day — and ye might’s well know it. I’m a-goin’ ter 
do my duty — ^what I knowed I should have done 
in the fust place. You an’ me have worked hard 
here, I reckon. But you ain’t worked a mite harder 
nor me; and you ain’t made the Inn what it is no 
more than I have.” 

“Not so much, Marm — not so much,” admitted 
her husband evidently anxious to placate her, for 
Marm Parraday was her old forceful self again. 

“I’d never oughter let rum sellin’ be begun here; 
an’ now I’m a-goin’ ter end it !” 


304 


How Janice Day Won 


“My mercy, Marm! ’Cordin’ ter the way folks 
talk, it’s goin’ to be ended, anyway, when they 
vote on Town Meeting Day,” said Lem, nervously. 
“I ain’t dared renew my stock for fear the 'drys’ 
might git it ” 

“Lem Parraday — ^ye poor, miser’ble worm!” ex- 
claimed his wife. “Be you goin’ ter wait till yer 
neighbors put ye out of a bad business, an’ then 
try ter take credit ter yerself that ye gin it up? 
Wal, I ain’t!” cried the wife, with energy. 

“We’re goin’ aout o’ business right now! I 
ain’t in no prayin’ mood terday — though I thank 
the good Lord he’s shown me my duty an’ has give 
me stren’th ter do it!” 

On the wall, in a “fire protection” frame, was 
coiled a length of hose, with a red painted pail and 
an axe. Marm turned to this and snatched down the 
axe from its hooks. 

“Why, Marm!” exploded Lem, trying to get in 
front of her. 

“Stand out o’ my way, Lem Parraday!” she 
commanded, with firm voice and unfaltering mien. 

“Yeou air crazy!” shrieked the tavern keeper, 
dancing between her and the barroom door. 

“Not as crazy as I was,” she returned grimly. 

She thrust him aside as though he were a child 
and strode into the barroom., Her appearance 
offered quite as much excitement to the loafers on 
this occasion as it had the day of the tempest. 


Marm Parraday Does Her Duty 305 

Only they shrank from her with good reason now, 
as she flourished the axe. 

‘*Git aout of here, the hull on ye!” ordered the 
stern woman. ‘*Ye have had the last drink in this 
place as long as Lem Parraday and me keeps it. 
Git aout !” 

She started around behind the bar. Joe Bodley, 
smiling cheerfully, advanced to meet her. 

“Now, Marm! You know this ain’t no way to 
act,” he said soothingly. “This ain’t no place for 
ladies, anyway. Women’s place is in the home. 
This here ” 

“Scat! ye little rat!” snapped Marm, and made a 
swing at him — or so he thought — that made Joe 
dance back in sudden fright. 

“Hey! take her off, Lem Parraday! The woman^s 

madr 

“You bet I’m mad!” rejoined Marm Parraday, 
grimly, and smash! the axe went among the bottles 
on the shelf behind the bar. Every bottle con- 
taining anything to drink was a target for the 
swinging axe. Joe jumped the bar, yelling wildly. 
He was the first out of the barroom, but most of 
the customers were close at his heels. 

“Marm! Yeou air ruinin’ of us!” yelled Lem. 

“I’m a-savin’ of us from the wrath to come!” 
returned the woman, sternly, and swung her axe 
again. 

The spigot flew from the whiskey barrel in the 


306 


How Janice Day Won 

corner and the next blow of the axe knocked in 
the head of the barrel. The acrid smell of liquor 
filled the place. 

Not a bottle of liquor was left. The barroom 
of the Lake View Inn promised to be the driest 
place in town. 

Up went the axe again. Lem yelled loud enough 
to be heard a block: 

‘^Not that barrel, Harm 1 For the good Land o’ 
Goshen ! don’t bust in that barrel.” 

‘‘Why not?” demanded his breathless wife, the 
axe poised for the stroke. 

“Cause it’s merlasses! If ye bust thet in, ye 
will hev a mess here, an’ no mistake.” 

“Jefers-pelters!” chuckled Walky Dexter, telling 
of it afterward, “I come away then an’ left ’em 
erlone. But you kin take it from me — Harm Par- 
raday is quite in her us’al form. Doc. Poole’s a 
wonderful doctor — ain’t he? 

“But,” pursued Walky, “I had a notion that old 
fiddle of Hopewell’s would be safer outside than it 
was in Marm Parraday’s way, an’ I tuk it down 
’fore I fled the scene of de-vas-ta-tion ! Haw ! haw ! 
haw ! 

“I run inter Joe Bodley on the outside, ^oe,’ 
says I, ‘I reskered part of your belongin’s. It looks 
ter me as though yeou’ll hev time an’ to spare to take 
this fiddle to the city an’ raffle it off. But ’fore ye 


Marm Parraday Does Her Duty 307 

do that, what’ll ye take for the fiddle — lowest cash 
price?’ ' 

‘Jest what it cost me, Walky/ says Joe. ‘One 
hundred dollars.’ 

“‘No, Joe; it didn’t cost ye that,’ says I. ‘I 
mean what ye on put into it yerself. That other 
feller that backed out’n his bargain put in some. 
How much ?’ 

“Wal,” pursued the expressman, “he hummed and 
hawed, but fin’ly he admitted that he was out only 
fifty dollars. ‘Here’s yer fifty, Joe,’ says I. ‘Hope- 
well wants his fiddle back.’ 

“I reckon Joe needed the money to git him out 
o’ taown. He can take a hint as quick as the next 
feller — ^when a ton of coal falls on him! Haw! 
haw! haw! He seen his usefulness in Polktown 
was kind o’ passed. So he took the fifty, an’ here’s 
the vi’lin, Janice Day. I reckon ye paid abeout 
forty-seven-fifty too much for it; but ye told me 
ter git it at any price.” 

To Hopewell and ’Rill, Janice, when she pre- 
sented the storekeeper with his precious fiddle, 
revealed a secret that she had not entrusted to 
Walky Dexter. By throwing the strong ray of an 
electric torch into the slot of the instrument she 
revealed to their wondering eyes a peculiar mark 
stamped in the wood of the back of it. 

“That, Mr. Drugg,” the girl told him, quietly, 
“is a mark to be found only in violins manufactured 


308 


How Janice Day Won 


by the Amati family. The date of the manufacture 
of this instrument I do not know ; but it is a genu- 
ine Cremona, I believe. At least, I would not sell 
it again, if I were you, without having it appraised 
first by an expert.” 

^‘Oh, my dear girl!” cried ’Rill, with streaming 
eyes, ‘^Hopewell won’t ever sell it again. I won’t 
let him. And we’ve got the joyfulest news, Janice! 
You have doubled our joy to-day. But already we 
have had a letter from Boston which says that our 
little Lottie is in better health than ever and that 
the peril of blindness is quite dissipated. She is 
coming home to us again in a short time.” 

‘joyful things,” as Janice said, were happening 
in quick rotation nowadays. With the permanent 
closing of the Lake View Inn bar, several of the 
habitues of the barroom began to straighten up. 
Jim Narnay had really been fighting his besetting 
sin since the baby’s death. He had found work 
in town and was taking his wages home to his wife. 

Trimmins was working steadily for Elder Con- 
cannon. And being so far away from any place 
where liquor was dispensed, he was doing very 
well. 

Really, with the abrupt closing of the bar, the 
cause of the “wets” in Polktown rather broke down. 
They had no rallying point, and, as Walky said, 
“munitions of war was mighty scurce.” 

“A feller can’t re’lly have the heart ter vote for 


Marm Parraday Does Her Duty 309 

whiskey ’nless ther’s whiskey in him/’ said Walky, 
at the close of the voting on Town Meeting Day. 
‘"How about that, Cross Moore? We dry fellers 
have walked over ye in great shape — ^ain’t that 
so?” 

‘T admit you have carried the day, Walky,” 
said the selectman, grimly. 

‘^He! he! I sh’d say we had! Purty near two 
ter one. Wal ! I thought ye said once that no man 
in Polktown could best ye — if ye put yer mind 
to it?” 

Cross Moore chewed his straw reflectively. ‘T 
don’t consider I have been beaten by a man,” he 
said. 

“No? Jefers-pelters! what d’ye call it?” blus- 
tered Walky. 

“I reckon Pve been beaten by a girl — and an 
idea,” said Mr. Cross Moore. 

“Wal,” sighed Aunt ’Mira, comfortably, rocking 
creakingly on the front porch of the old Day house 
in the glow of sunset, “Polktown does seem re- 
joovenated, jest like Mr. Middler preached last 
Sunday, since rum sellin’ has gone out. And it 
was a sight for sore eyes ter see Marm Parraday 
come ter church ag’in — an’ that poor, miser’ble Lem 
taggin’ after her.” 

Janice laughed, happily. “I know that there can 


310 


How Janice Day Won 


be nobody in town as glad that the vote went ‘no 
license’ as the Parradays.” 

“Ya-as,” agreed Aunt ’Mira, rather absently. 
“Did ye notice Marm’s new bonnet ? It looked right 
smart to me. Pm a-goin’ ter have Miz Lynch make 
me one like it.” 

“Say, Janice! want anything down town?” asked 
Marty coming out of the house and starting 
through the yard. 

“It doesn’t seem to me as though I really wanted 
but one thing in all this big, beautiful world!” 
said his cousin, with longing in her voice. 

“What’s that, child?” asked her aunt. 

“I want daddy to come home.” 

Marty went off whistling. Aunt ’Mira rocked 
a while. “Ya-as,” she finally said, “if Broxton Day 
would only let them Mexicaners alone an’ come up 
here to Polktown ” 

Janice suddenly started from her chair; her 
cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. “Oh! here 
he is!” she murmured. 

“Here who is? Who d’ye mean, Janice Day? 
Not yer fatherT^ gasped Aunt ’Mira, staring with 
near-sighted eyes down the shadowy path. 

Janice smiled. “It’s Nelson,” she said softly, 
her gaze upon the manly figure mounting the hill. 


THE END 















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